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s0dium · 7 months ago

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𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!

𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find out that your crush, Geto Suguru, was just like you: a murderer. Not only that but you share the same passion; killing criminals and pedophiles! (Happy Kinktober) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT, gore, mutilation, murder, mentions of pedophiles (y/n kills them), serial killing, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, teasing, knife play, whipped Suguru 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k 𝐀/𝐧: This is based HEAVILY on the novel Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver. The original idea is credited to Brynne Weaver ONLY. This work is fan fiction and is not intended for commercial purposes or to infringe on the intellectual property rights of the original author.

Being a serial killer who kills other killers, pedophiles, and rapists is a great hobby.

Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

For three days.

No AC.

With a body you carved up.

You glare at the fly-riddled corpse whose legs are kneeling opposite of you in the locked cage you were both trapped in. The air is thick with the putrid stench of decay, a relentless assault on your senses. The body's skin is pallid, marred by the writhing mass of white maggots that feast mercilessly. Where eyes once held gaze, now only hollow sockets remain, tediously scooped out and vacant. The ears too have been sheared off, leaving clean edges that blend into the mottled, blood-stained flesh. Its chest has been cracked open; ribs pried apart in a macabre mimicry of an unhinged broken cocoon, revealing the dark, empty cavity where a heart once beat.

Then, of course, the piste de resistance of your work, the removed eyes, ears, and heart rest in the corpse's upturned palms—placed with ceremonial care amidst the chaos of mutilation.

So now, if anyone were to walk down the steps of Gary Green House's basement, they would not only find his mutilated body, but the person who did it, trapped in a cage together.

"Fuck." You curse at yourself for the millionth time since you've been trapped here for the last three days. The cold realization that you've fallen into Gary’s final trap gnaws at your mind as relentlessly as the maggots at the corpse across from you. The cage, a cruel relic of Gary’s twisted pleasures, had seemed the perfect place for your ritual—turning the hunter into the hunted in his own den of horrors. But in your fervor to see him pay, you overlooked one crucial detail: the cage's sinister design, which sealed shut the moment its door swung closed.

The remote control, now a mocking symbol of freedom, lies just beyond the bars, on a small, grimy table. You remember the sickening click of the lock, the finality of it echoing in the cramped space as you turned back from the grisly task of dismembering Gary—his last, silent victory.

Even the idiot police could deduce that this was all your doing, seeing as all your bloody tools were still with you in your backpack. With fingerprints. It was just a matter of time before they opened the basement door.

You could practically hear Gary’s voice from beyond the grave: "Hah! Serves you right, you stupid bitch! That's what you get for killing me!" The taunt echoes in your head like a song over and over again and you're seriously contemplating banging your head against the iron bars.

"FUCK FINE!" You yell into the darkness. "I renounce my wicked ways!"

"That's a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways."

You jump at the sound of a man's deep, smooth voice, the cadence of slight raspiness warming every note. Your curses cut the humid air from the startlement of the man's presence. How the hell did he even get in here? You didn't hear the basement door open. You scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.

"You seem to be in a predicament." He says stepping into view. The thin light from the window partially illuminates him, allowing you to make out his face. Oh rather, what is on his face.

Holy shit.

A ghost mask stares back at you, its hollow eyes and elongated mouth frozen in a chilling scream. The stark white of the mask contrasts sharply with the surrounding shadows, and you watch with wide eyes as he tilts his head.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

In any other situation, you might be fan-girling. You know exactly who you're staring at: the infamous Crucifer, a killer, like you, but notorious for his crucifixion of criminals in rather, flamboyant displays. The few eyewitness accounts of the Crucifer all mention the ghost mask, leaving no doubt in your mind about his identity.

While your hunting grounds have been Osaka, his have typically been Tokyo, but despite the geographical difference, his reputation precedes him. In all honesty, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Your victim, Gary Greenwich, is notorious even among the authorities. Despite his crimes, the lack of solid evidence has always allowed him to slip through the cracks of the justice system, leaving him free to continue his heinous activities. He was high on your kill list, and it’s no surprise he was high on Crucifers as well.

He takes a few steps closer toward the cage to stare down at the corpse, bending to take a closer look.

"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.

You are on day three of no food. No water. The gnawing hunger in your stomach feels like a relentless beast, clawing at your insides with increasing ferocity. You wonder if your body has started to eat its own organs at this point.

You can't deal with this shit.

"Self defense." You say.

The man chuckles. "I doubt that, you're not his type." Despite his mask you can feel his eyes shift from the corpse to linger on you.

"And how would you know that?"

"Well disregarding the state in which you "self defense" left him, you're not a 6 year old boy. And," he steps closer so now he is inches away from the bars and his whole body is illuminated. "I make it my business to know."

You don't answer. Instead you watch as he crouches down to meet your gaze. You try to hide behind your tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only your eyes.

And of course, just your luck, he is stunning

Black hair flows behind his mask and down his shoulder. He's wearing a black compression shirt that hugs every muscle of his biceps and forearms, accentuating his athletic build. His broad shoulders enhance his imposing presence, giving him the aura of a seasoned athlete. Black cargo pants complete his ensemble, practical and intimidating, with a hunting knife sticking out of his pocket, probably what he would've used on Gary if you hadn't got to him first.

Something about him looks familiar, something you can't put your finger on.

"I guess you made it your business to know too." He pauses before moving even closer so his mask is practically pressed against the iron bars. "Hey, you look pretty familiar."

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. Instinctively, you brush a tangled lock of hair from your face, wincing as it catches on your dry lips. The man's shoulders tense as if he has been electrocuted.

"Y/n?" His voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife.

Oh, what the hell.

You jerk your head up from your hunched posture, eyes wide in shock, meeting the unsettling, hollow eyes of the ghost mask. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your chest.

"Wha-"

"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaims, his loud deep voice echoing through the basement.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you stammer, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach.

"It's me," he interrupts, and with a swift motion, he takes off his mask. The sight of his familiar face makes your breath catch in your throat. "Suguru Geto."

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent ripples through your thoughts, dragging along memories and emotions you had long buried. Suguru wasn’t just any ordinary guy; he was a micro-celebrity in Tokyo, renowned for his breathtaking tattoo artistry. His ink adorned the bodies of celebrities, flaunted in TikToks and Instagram posts that garnered thousands of likes. His reputation was impeccable, his designs sought after by the elite.

You had crossed paths with Suguru a few times at various parties, your social circles occasionally overlapping due to mutual friends. Each encounter left an indelible mark on you. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his talent that made him irresistible; it was everything about him. Those hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, the perfect curve of his lips that could shift from a smirk to a genuine smile in an instant, and those dimples that appeared whenever he graced you with that smile—each feature was a weapon, effortlessly disarming.

You, like many other girls, harbored a secret crush on Suguru Geto. It was impossible not to. That face alone could kill, and his charisma was the final blow.

And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, unmasked and undeniably real. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and a little overwhelmed.

Suguru clears his throat, a small smirk playing on his lips from how obviously you are gawking at him.

"Shot in the dark here but are you the Mute Collector?"

You part your lips to say something but you can't seem to form the right words.

"I-"

Suguru's grin widens and a sharp laugh escapes his perfect mouth. "Oh my god. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong about you with that bull shit profile they built. What was it, they said you were a 30 year old white man?" Suguru throws his head back and smiles at the ceiling. "And the Mute Collector? You? That's just awesome. I'm such a huge fan."

"Yeah..." You clear your throat and push your hair completely out of your face. He grins at you, as though awe struck, and if you weren't wearing 100 layers of grime on your skin you are sure he'd be able to see the blush flaming in your cheeks for a second.

"And you?" You nod toward the mask. "You are?" You don't know why you are feigning ignorance but something about humbling him seems tastier than actual food right now.

"Oh come on." Suguru's tone flattens and he brings the mask up next to his face.

"The Crucifer?"

You shake your head.

"The cross maker?"

You shake your head again. Lying through your teeth is fun.

"The Tokyo Butcher?" When you shake your head he sighs and stands up. "Well," he glances to Gary whose maggots have made their way to the empty eye sockets. "What do you say? We ditch this lousy scene and get something to eat. Maybe when you get food in your stomach you will remember some of my little nicknames."

Your eyes widen and your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of how long it's been since you last ate. You glance up at your Suguru, a mix of hope and suspicion in your gaze.

"Are you serious?" you ask, your voice hoarse from dehydration.

"Yeah, after we get you a shower, some clothes and burn the house down."

You gulp and stand to your feet. "Could we get burgers?"

Suguru grins before grabbing the remote and pointing it at the cage.

"Fine by me."

The Mute Collector.

Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.

And god you are beautiful.

Not that he just realized it now. Like many others, he has always known how attractive you are; he just pushed it to the back of his mind. But now, knowing who you really are and what you do in your free time, your body has practically been encompassed in bright warm light and your head adorned with a halo. He watches as you down your 6th cup of water with a sigh and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

The two of you sit in a cozy booth at a restaurant, the warm, smoky aroma filling the air. Suguru leans back with a beer in hand, watching you with a mix of amusement and caution. The waitress approaches, placing a large plate with a double cheeseburger and fries in front of you. Your eyes light up, and without wasting a second, you pick up the cheeseburger with your fingers and take a big bite, savoring the flavors.

Suguru chuckles, raising his beer in a mock toast. "You look like you've just found the Holy Grail."

He doesn't miss the way you stifle back a laugh, trying to speak through a mouthful of burger. "If the Holy Grail were covered in cheese and ketchup, then yeah, maybe."

He takes a sip of his beer, grinning. "I’ve never seen someone so excited about food. Maybe you should give up your little hobby and do food reviews."

"Well, that's what being trapped in a cage with the rotting corpse of a pedophile does to you I guess." You grumble, setting down the burger and taking another drink of water.

Suguru's eyes stay on you, and he takes the opportunity to really assess you. Your hair is damp, and the wetness seeps into the white Mickey Mouse shirt you're wearing, causing it to cling slightly to your skin and reveal the elegant lines of your collarbone. He bought that shirt and the shorts for you at a thrift store, and despite the fact that such clothes should look bad on anyone, you are rocking them effortlessly.

He can't help but notice that you didn't buy a bra, a fact that makes him smile to himself.

No bra.

"So tell me." Suguru sets his beer back on the table and leans in.

"The whole ears, eyes and heart thing." He waves his left hand in the air. "The police say it's satanic ritual stuff but I don't buy it."

You pause, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you meet his gaze. "It's simple, really. Hear no evil, see no evil, fear no evil."

Suguru raises an eyebrow. "You have a way of making the macabre sound poetic."

You're about to reach for a fry, but he snatches it before your fingers could reach it.

"Why not the tongue?" He says. "You know, speak no evil."

You roll your eyes and snatch the fry out of his fingers. "Tongues are hard to cut, too slippery and make a mess."

He nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "You know, most people would be horrified to hear you talk like that."

"Good thing you’re not most people," you reply with a smirk.

"Touché."

He watches as your lips wrap around the thick fry and your teeth rip off half of it into your mouth.

No bra.

"What about you Suguru?" You lock eyes with him. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

"You heard me. You swoop in all superman-like, save me from the dipshit’s pedo dungeon and take me out for a double cheeseburger. Why are you here?"

Suguru shrugs and averts his gaze from your unyielding stare. Shit, your piercing eyes are almost making him sweat.

"Same thing you already did. I was going to skin him alive and and display the fucking monkey Jesus style infront of his house. At least, something like that."

"Yeah but why him? I thought your hunting grounds were in Tokyo?"

Your eyes widen slightly as the words hang in the air, the weight of your mistake sinking in immediately. You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. Your lips part as if to take back the words, but it's too late; they've already been spoken.

A sly smile spreads across Sugurus face as he watches your face fall.

"Oh you totally know who I am Y/n."

"Fucking hell."

"You do! You know that I like to hunt near my home, how long have you been a part of my fan club?"

You roll your eyes and fall back into your seat. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain your composure, but the subtle tension in your jaw and the furrowing of your brow betray your embarrassment.

"So which one was your favorite? The monkey I strung up next to the police station? Or the one I flayed inside the Tokyo Union Church?"

"Oh my god I can already tell you are going to be insufferable." You grumble, the heat of embarrassment slowly dissipating as you take a deep breath. Suguru leans back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirls the beer in his hand, watching you with an almost predatory curiosity. As seconds pass, Suguru assesses your face, following how your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, and Suguru’s playful expression falters for a split second. He realizes with a sudden jolt that you're trying to leave. He can't have that. He needs to see you again.

"Hey speaking of suffering," Suguru clears his throat. "Have you heard about the women killings in Kyoto?"

Your eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've heard. Pretty gruesome stuff. Why do you ask?"

A playful smile tugs at his lips. "How about a friendly competition? The killer's already taken six lives so far."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to decipher his intentions. "What do you mean by a competition?"

Suguru leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's exactly what it sounds like. Who can hunt him down first?"

For a moment, you're taken aback, your eyes widening as you process his proposal. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickers across your face. "Are you serious?"

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. "As sin."

"And what do we get if we win?"

Suguru's eyes gleam with amusement and something else—admiration. "Bragging rights, of course. And maybe... another dinner like this one."

You throw your head back and let out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Who says I'll need you to get me another dinner?"

"Can't let you go hungry again. What do you say?”

You sit at your desk, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow on your face as you scroll through articles about the woman killer from Kyoto. The room is quiet, save for the occasional click of your mouse and the hum of the laptop. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at the screen to see Shoko’s name. With a smile, you answer the call.

"Hey Shoko, how’s your night shift?" you greet her with a teasing tone.

Shoko’s laugh crackles through the speaker. "Busy as always. Just patched up a guy who thought he could outsmart a bulletproof vest with sheer willpower. Spoiler: he couldn’t."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Sounds like my type of guy."

By day, Shoko is your best friend and a dedicated med student, excelling in her studies with a, albeit, half hearted, passion for helping others. But when the sun sets, she transforms into the notorious Dr. Reverse, the underground doctor every criminal and lowlife turns to in their time of need. Using her medical expertise, she serves those who cannot seek help through legal means, operating in the shadows and patching up criminals who live by a different set of rules. In addition to her medical skills, she also deals in poisons, further cementing her reputation in the underworld.

You first met Shoko in a moment of desperation. After cornering a serial rapist, you were attacked with a machete, almost severing your arm. With nowhere else to turn, you sought out Dr. Reverse. Shoko skillfully sewed you up and, in the process, deduced that you were the infamous Mute Collector. To your surprise, she didn't seem to care about your identity, and you, in turn, didn't question her underground business or her dealings with poison. This mutual understanding and acceptance laid the foundation for a strong bond, and you've been best friends ever since.

Shoko laughed, a sound that always manages to lift your spirits. "Right? Anyway, what's up? I saw your SOS text."

You hesitate, glancing at the photo of Geto Suguru on your screen on a separate tab. His annoyingly white teeth glare back at you, and you try to resist staring at his six pack in an instagram photo someone took of him at a pool party. His dark eyes seemed to stare right through you, as if mocking your indecision. "It's about Geto."

There was a brief pause before Shoko's voice came back, tinged with curiosity. "Geto? What about him?"

You take a deep breath, your fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "He's the Crucifier."

Shoko's reaction was immediate and loud. "Geto is what?" she practically yelled through the phone, causing you to wince.

"The Crucifier. I know." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Can you believe it?"

Shoko let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, he always seemed like a guy with secrets, but I never pegged him for a serial killer, I mean, someone like you."

"Yeah, well, here we are," You mutter, rubbing your temples. You focus your attention back on your computer screen. Suguru is squeaky clean, not even a bad review on his website. There was only his questionable taste in best friends: Gojo Satoru—the biggest playboy and the infamous heir to the Gojo Company, Japan's largest and most influential corporation. Gojo's notoriety was legendary, his exploits plastered across tabloids and whispered in gossip circles. You’ve met, and been hit on by the man a few times, and not once did you fall for any of his slimy cheap antics. No, Geto Suguru is who your eyes fell on.

"And now he’s proposed some sort of competition."

"A competition?" Shoko's voice was practically dripping with amusement. "Like a hunting competition?”

You let out a snort of air through your nose. “Basically.”

Are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know," You admit, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. "I said I would, but I don't know. I barely know the guy. Well, I thought I did."

"Well, you should," Shoko said, her tone shifting to one of gentle teasing. "Besides, isn't this your chance to get closer to your crush?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Shoko, seriously? Come on, that was ages ago."

"Hey, I'm just saying," she replies, laughter bubbling up again. "This could be your big break."

"You're impossible," you grumble, though you can't help but smile. "How's the side business, by the way?"

"Thriving," she says and you can practically see her small smile through the phone.. "You'd be amazed at how many people need a little untraceable something for their enemies."

"I don't doubt it," you say, shaking your head. "Just stay safe, okay?"

"You too, Mute Collector," Shoko says, her voice softening slightly. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"Always," you reply, your smile growing wider. "Thanks, Shoko. Talk to you soon."

"Later," she says, and the line goes dead.

You lean back in your chair again, your thoughts drifting back to Geto Suguru and the strange, dangerous world you both inhabit. As much as you hate to admit it, Shoko is right. This is your chance, not just to catch some sick killer, but to uncover the secrets that lie hidden beneath Suguru’s enigmatic exterior.

With a sigh, you close your laptop and stand up, determination settling in your chest. The competition awaits, and you have a feeling it's going to be a game changer.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the white hair man’s mocking tone and continues to stare at his phone. It's been 10 minutes. How long does it take for someone to respond to a text. Suguru lay sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone. Across the room, Gojo was bustling about in the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking and food sizzling filling the air.

"Is this about Y/n? The Mute Collector or whatever?" Gojo asked, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Suguru didn't respond, his gaze unwavering from the screen. He could feel Gojo's eyes on him, the scrutiny almost tangible.

"I don't think I've seen you put this much effort into a woman since, like... ever," Gojo continued, his tone teasing. He turned back to his cooking, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Suguru's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence. Gojo, undeterred, pressed on. "Besides the fact that she's the Mute Collector, what do you even see in Y/n? Well, I guess she does have other assets," he chuckled.

"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you prick," Suguru snapped, his voice low and menacing.

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial."

Suguru continued to stare at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys. "How long does it take for someone to respond to a fucking text" he mutters under his breath.

Gojo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe she's busy. Or maybe she's just messing with you. You know, playing hard to get."

Suguru finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't play games. And she's not hard to get—she's hard to keep."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Suguru's reaction. “Touchy, touchy,” he mutters, returning to his culinary task.

Just then, Suguru's phone pings. His heart skips a beat as he sees your name flash on the screen. He quickly opens the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads your response.

Y/n: Fine, I'll do it. But what are the details?

Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled

Y/n: Shut up.

Suguru: The rules are simple: whoever deduces the monkey’s identity first and guts the bastard wins.

Y/n: And how do I know you don’t already have a head start?

Suguru: I guess you'll just have to trust me.

Y/n: Trust you? That’s rich coming from someone who literally stabs people in the back.

Suguru lets out a snort of air from your comment catching Gojo’s attention. “Ah, there it is. The smile of a man who's finally gotten what he wants.”

Suguru doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he focuses on your message, feeling a grin grow on his lips.

Suguru: You wound me, truly. But where’s the fun without a little challenge? Besides, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you

Y/n: Easy, huh? I suppose you think you’re quite the genius, then?

Suguru: Only compared to the average monkey. You, on the other hand, might actually make this interesting.

Y/n: Is that a compliment or are you just trying to butter me up?

Suguru: Can’t it be both?

Y/n: Oh, don't worry. You’re not the only one who enjoys a good chase. But don’t cry when I beat you at your own game.

Suguru: Cry? Please. I’ll be too busy admiring you in action. It’s a win-win for me.

Y/n: Flattery will get you nowhere, Suguru.

Suguru: Really?

Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?

Y/n: *One attachment*

You send an image of your hand flipping him off. Your middle finger nail is painted black and he assumes so are all your other fingers. His heart thuds against his chest. God, how he would love to have those nails dragging down his back. His dick twitches just thinking about it.

Gojo snickers as if he can read Suguru’s thoughts and Suguru considers throwing his phone at the smug white hair man when Gojo’s phone rings. Any humor falls off Gojo’s features like snow from a shaken tree branch. He glances at the caller ID, his eyes narrowing, and picks up the phone with a serious tone.

“This is Gojo.” He says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped “yes” and “no” answers, his timbre low. “I'll be there in 30 minutes.”

When he sets down the phone, Suguru meets his blue eyes, Gojo’s brief smile is grim.

“Trouble?” Suguru asks.

“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.

On the exterior Gojo is Japan's most infamous playboy and philanthropist. But by night he is the devil's tool, the country's most lethal assassin for anyone from politicians to presidents. What Suguru and you do for a hobby, Gojo Satoru does for his job.

Gojo dumps his hot food in a container, grabs his hunting knife coat and bag and heads for the door. Before he exits, he turns around to lock eyes with Suguru.

“Be safe. A woman killer is a deadly combo.” He says.

Suguru chuckles, and for a second he doesn't know if Gojo’s talking about you or the guy in Kyoto. “You to ass hat.”

You can't believe you are doing this.

You can't believe that you took up Suguru’s competition, spent 120 dollars on a train and hotel room at Kyoto and an extra 20 on room service. Moreover you can't believe that you are here, hiding in a forest of bamboo shoots at the dead of night, watching some man who may or may not be the Kyoto women killer.

It’s a warm summer night, and every time the wind blows, the bamboo shoots rustle against each other, creating a haunting melody that sets your nerves on edge. The air is thick with the scent of earth and foliage, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuates the silence. You’re crouched low, your body tense, watching a man named Noaya Zenin who you followed out here. He seems to be wandering aimlessly, but you know better than to underestimate him. The Zenin clan's reach is long and shadowy, and their involvement in the Kyoto women killings is a tangled web you’ve been unraveling. All key witnesses were either paid off by the Zenin clan or had lawyers representing them from the Zenin clan. The pattern was too precise to be a coincidence.

Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, makes your senses sharper, every movement and sound more pronounced. You can feel the need creeping up on you, slowly reaching your brain until your skin itches with anticipation.

Each minute feels like an eternity as you scrutinize Noaya’s every move. He stops occasionally, looking around as if sensing he’s being watched, and you hold your breath, pressing yourself closer to the ground. The moonlight filters through the dense bamboo, casting eerie shadows that dance with the wind. Your mind races, piecing together fragments of evidence and suspicion. If Noaya Zenin is indeed the killer, catching him here could be the breakthrough you need.

“Hiya.”

A scream almost rips through you when you feel someone's breath against your ear, but you quickly cover your mouth and whip around. Of course, you’re met face to face with the man you least wanted to see right now. Familiar hazel eyes gaze back at you, glinting with mischief and amusement. Suguru is crouched right next to you, his nose mere inches from yours, a sly smirk on his face. You didn’t even hear him approach.

“Suguru, what the fuck?” you hiss, keeping your voice low. Your first instinct is to grab your knife out of your pocket and press it against his throat but he holds both his hands up as if surrendering, stopping you.

“Woah woah princess, let's cool our engines.” He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Your pulse is still racing, but you force yourself to calm down. “You could have given me a heart attack. How did you even find me?” You seethe.

“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically, his smirk widening. “Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I? So,” his eyes flicker to Noaya, who still seems to be staring at his phone. “Who are we looking at?”

“We?” You scoff and roll your eyes. “Are you kidding me? There is no we. This is a competition, remember? Go do your own research.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. You know you love my company.”

Before you can retort, Noaya picks up his phone. You both strain to listen, and you catch his words clearly.

“Yeah, I’m at the bamboo forest. See you soon, babe.” He then hangs up the phone with a click and puts it back in his backpack. But just when you're about to turn back to Suguru and rip into the man, Noaya pulls something else out too. A hunting knife. A large one at that with serrated ends and a pointed tip that glints in the moon light. Just like the one used on the victims. And as if things couldn't get any more apparent, you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his face when he draws the blade diagonally through the air.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes wide. “That’s definitely him. That’s like some comically evil villain shit right there.”

“Dibs,” Suguru whispers back, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he puts on his ghost mask. “I call fucking dibs.” He stands up, the crunch of leaves making Noaya whip around and stare right at the area you both hid in.

For a solid 5 seconds your two flabbergasted to even form words, you can only watch as Suguru steps out from the bamboo shoots and onto the trail, slowly walking toward Noaya like a lion cornering a gazelle.

Or course, Noaya turns, screams like a little girl, and makes a hard right straight into the forest of bamboos.

“Oh hell no,” you mutter, leaping up and chasing after him. You sprint through the forest, the warm summer air thick and humid around you. Each footfall is muffled by the dense undergrowth, but the occasional snap of a twig or crunch of leaves marks your frenzied pace. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the forest floor, creating an ever-shifting maze of light and dark.

Your breath comes in quick, controlled bursts, each inhale filling your lungs with the earthy scent of the forest. Adrenaline surges through your veins, sharpening your senses. The rhythmic pounding of your heart in your chest matches the rapid beat of your footsteps. Ahead, you can just make out the faint silhouette of Noaya, his panicked movements betraying his desperation.

Branches claw at your clothes and face, but you push through, eyes locked on your target. The thrill of the chase ignites every nerve, propelling you forward with a singular focus. Suguru’s presence is a constant just behind you, his footsteps a steady reminder of the competition driving you both. You can hear his breaths, steady and calculated, mirroring your own.

The path twists and turns, the bamboo growing thicker, creating a claustrophobic tunnel. You duck and weave, dodging low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The forest floor is uneven, riddled with roots and hidden pitfalls, but your reflexes are sharp, your movements instinctual.

The thrill, the excitement, the danger—it all converges in this moment. You are a predator in your element, and your prey is within reach. The bamboo forest seems to blur around you, time stretching and contracting with each heartbeat. This is what you live for, the ultimate test of skill and nerve, the ultimate game of life and death.

Just as you’re about to close the distance, your fingertips brushing the fabric of Noaya’s shirt, he whirls around with surprising speed. The moonlight catches the gleam of his hunting knife as it arcs through the air. Instinct takes over, and you try to dodge, but the blade slices across your palm, leaving a hot, stinging line of red in its wake.

For a split second, time seems to slow. You see the wild desperation in Noaya’s eyes, the way his chest heaves with exertion and fear. But there’s no pain, only a white-hot fury that floods your veins, fueling your next move.

Your grip tightens around the hilt of your own knife, slick with blood but steady. The cut on your palm feels like a mere scratch compared to the surge of adrenaline that courses through you. With a fierce snarl, you lunge forward, using the momentum to drive Noaya back a step.

He stumbles, his confidence faltering as he realizes the severity of his mistake. You don’t give him a chance to recover. You move with a predatory grace, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. The forest around you fades into a blur of green and shadow, all your focus locked on the man in front of you.

Noaya swings wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. You sidestep his attacks with practiced ease, your fury giving you a sharp, clear edge. The scent of blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest, and your pulse pounds in your ears like a war drum.

You close the distance again, this time with a calculated precision. Your free hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the knife clatters to the ground. Noaya yelps in pain, his eyes widening in terror. The tables have turned, and he knows it.

Your injured hand, still bleeding, clamps down on his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Nice try,” you hiss, the fury in your voice making him shudder. “But it’s over.”

With a swift, brutal motion, you plunge your knife into his chest. The blade sinks into flesh with a sickening thud, and Noaya's eyes widen in shock and agony. Blood spurts from the wound, hot and sticky, spraying across your face in a macabre mist. The initial strike is met with a gasp, a desperate, choking sound that fuels the savage fire within you.

A wicked grin spreads across your face, the thrill of dominance electrifying your senses. You pull the knife out, feeling the resistance of tissue and bone, and then plunge it in again, and again. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, a symphony of carnage that drowns out the world around you. Blood flows freely, pooling at your feet and soaking into the earth.

Noaya’s body jerks and spasms with each stab, his strength fading with every violent assault. His once panicked eyes grow dull, the life draining from them as you continue your relentless attack. The coppery tang of blood fills the air, mingling with the scent of the forest, creating a heady mixture that makes your pulse race even faster.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the violence, the way your muscles strain and flex with each plunge of the knife. Blood splatters across your face and clothes, warm and viscous, painting you in the evidence of your victory. Your grin widens, a feral expression of triumph and fury.

Amidst your frenzied stabbings, Suguru places a hand on your shoulder. "I think—" he begins, but when you turn around to face him he immediately shuts up.

Your eyes are wide, pupils contracted like a deranged predator. Your hair flows wildly in the wind as you grab Suguru's throat with your bloody hand, smearing the crimson on his skin and pressing him against a tree.

"This woman-killer fucker is mine." You seethe.

His dick strains against his cargo pants waistband. You look divine.

“ Of course, All yours baby.” He coos.

Geto Suguru would be lying if he said that watching you tear apart that woman-killer wasn't the hottest thing he had ever seen.

To Suguru, you looked divine. The moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of your face, casting shadows that danced across your blood-splattered skin. Your eyes, wild with the remnants of fury, glowed with an unearthly intensity. The contrast of crimson against your complexion made you seem otherworldly, a dark goddess of vengeance. Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the raw, primal beauty you exuded in that moment.

The walk back to your hotel was silent, but not because you were soaked in blood or because he felt awkward. More like it was because the only think he could think to say is “You are so fucking hot.”

Now here he is, twiddling his thumbs as he stands outside of your hotel door, trying to think of the right thing to say to you because god he needs to see your face one last time before he goes to bed.

He raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open. You stand there, your hair wet and smelling faintly of vanilla. You’ve clearly just come out of the shower. A tank top clings to your damp skin, and sports shorts hug your thighs. His eyes widen slightly, and he gulps, struggling to keep his composure.

No bra.

The sight makes his mouth go dry.

"Just checking to see if everything is good," he says, nodding toward your bandaged hand.

You feel yourself fidget in your place and you try to flash a small smile but your emotions betray you. What if you freaked him out? What he saw back there, what you did back there, that was you, the raw you. Behind all the layers of kind smiles and pleasantries, in many ways, you were no different than an animal, consumed by your predatory instincts. You wouldn't blame him if he never contacted you again after this. Shit, did you just fuck up everything?

His presence fills the doorway, and you’re acutely aware of the tension between you two.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for asking.”

His eyes flicker down to your hand, then back up to meet yours. “How’s the hand?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You hold it up and wiggle your fingers slightly. “It’ll heal. No big deal.”

Silence fills the void between you two and you clear your throat, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, but he beats you to it.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. “Or are you planning to keep all the fun out here in the hallway?”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, come in. But I warn you, it’s a mess.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he quips, stepping inside. His eyes scan the room, taking in the organized chaos. Bandages and clothes are scattered around the floor and he doesn't miss the splatter of blood on the white sheets of the hotel bed. After a moment, Suguru turns around and takes a step closer to you, like he’s examining you.

You tilt your head slightly, letting a smirk play on your lips. "So, now that I’ve won the bet, what do I get?"

He chuckles, the sound low and smooth, as he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I was wondering when you’d bring that up."

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. "Well? I’m waiting. What’s my prize?"

Suguru stops just inches from you. "I don’t know," he quips, "What do you want?"

You let out a short laugh, though it’s clear you’re testing him now. "That’s a big question."

Suguru's eyes darken slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious, more intense. He leans in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. "Try me."

The tension between you two is palpable, electric. You’re the first to break the silence, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I want," you pause, averting your gaze from Suguru’s hawkish one. “I want to know if I scared you.” The question slips out before you can stop it, your bravado faltering as doubt creeps in.

Suguru blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scare me?" He repeats, as if the idea itself is laughable. He steps even closer, forcing you to take a step back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Scare me?” He repeats again. “You didn’t scare me," he continues, his voice low and sincere. "You… captivated me. I have never, and I mean never, seen something so magnificent as what you did. And that's saying a lot because I've done a shit ton of magnificent things.”

You sit down on the bed, more out of necessity than choice, as he looms over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel a mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something much more dangerous.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place.

He smiles, a slow, almost wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. "Well, I thought I might kiss you now, you know, after telling you how magnificent you are.” He tilts his head. “Is that a bad idea?"

Your breath catches in your throat as the weight of his words sinks in. You forget to breathe.

You finally find your voice, though it’s a bit shakier than you’d like. "That depends…"

"On?" He asks, his face inching closer to yours, his gaze locked onto your lips.

"On how good you are at it," you murmur.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Suguru closes the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as intense as it is tender. It’s a slow, deliberate connection, his hands moving to cradle your face as if you’re something precious, something worth savoring.

The kiss deepens, and all the tension that had been building between you two finally snaps, leaving nothing but raw desire in its wake. You respond in kind, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and the world seems to have shrunk down to just the two of you in this moment. Suguru’s forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, a real, genuine smile that you can feel in your bones.

"So," he says, his voice husky and low. "How was that?"

You laugh softly, still trying to catch your breath. "Not bad," you admit, your fingers running through his black hair. "Not bad at all."

"Good," he replies, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "Because I plan on doing it again."

Suguru’s lips are on yours again before you can even catch your breath, this time more insistent, more demanding. He’s not asking for permission anymore; he’s claiming what he wants, and it makes your head spin. The kiss deepens as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can taste him—warm, intoxicating—and you find yourself leaning into his lips, craving more.

His hand, warm and firm, slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest between your thighs. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through you, and you gasp against his mouth, your heart pounding in your chest.

But it’s too much, too fast. Your mind races, and you instinctively pull back, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” you murmur, your voice breathless, “I dont know if we should….” You avert your gaze and turn your head toward the wall but Suguru grabs your chin, forcing you to look right into his hazel eyes. Then, he dips his head to whisper in your ear.

“Aw come one Y/n” He grazes your earlobe with his teeth. “I’ve been on my best behavior, a good boy,” Suguru pauses to deliver a soft kiss to your temple. “I've been waiting, waiting ever since I met you in that cage to do this. Don't I deserve a reward for my patience?”

You thickly gulp as he rubs the sides of your neck with his lips.

“I’ve been-” He kisses your jaw. “Such a-” he kisses his way up to your mouth. “Good boy.”

You cave.

As his words sink in, you feel your resolve crumbling, the weight of his desire pressing down on you in the most intoxicating way. Before you can even process what’s happening, Suguru's strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the bed with effortless ease. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking you, and you can't help but let out a soft gasp as he lifts you off the bed and up so your head rests on the plush hotel pillow. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent, and you feel your breath hitch as the world narrows down to just the two of you. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling with the quiet rustle of sheets as he leans over you.

“I know you have been thinking about this too.” He coos. Suguru’s hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to lift it. The cool air hits your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, exposing you to his hungry gaze. But before you can feel self-conscious, his lips are on your newly exposed skin, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “Just so gorgeous.”

His hands are on your shorts next, tugging them down your hips with the same careful slowness, as if he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. As the fabric slips down your legs, he trails kisses along the newly exposed skin, his lips brushing against your thighs, your knees, your calves, until the shorts are discarded on the floor.

Now you’re lying before him in just your underwear, and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes your entire body flush with heat. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Just so damn gorgeous.”

Suguru straightens up slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, revealing his bare chest. The sight of him makes your breath catch—his body is lean and athletic, muscles defined and sculpted from years of discipline and training. Tattoos cover his skin in an elaborate tapestry. He’s handsome, impossibly so, and the sight of him like this, just inches away, makes your pulse quicken.

He doesn’t stop there. His fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he slides them down, revealing more of his skin, his strong legs, until he’s kneeling before you in just his boxers. The fabric clings to him in a way that leaves little to the imagination, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of him.

Suguru catches your gaze, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Something catches your eye princess?”

You nod, “Yes. You. All of you.” Your eyes tracing every line and curve of his body. He’s more than just handsome—he’s breathtaking, a perfect combination of strength and beauty that leaves you feeling weak in the best way possible.

He leans down again, his body hovering over yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”

With that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing down your sides, touching, feeling, exploring.

You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands slipping under your underwear and making their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.

"Gotta get you ready baby.?" Suguru hums and you shake you head vigorously.

"No please Sugu~, I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he pulls down his boxers and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby, I know. Don't worry, lift your hips for me love?”

You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you.

“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Suguru thrusts into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

You dont even realize that your eyes are closed until Suguru whispers into your ear.

“Come on baby, open those pretty eyes, look at me.”

You do as he says and when you do you feel your heart thud in your chest. Suguru’s eyes were fixated completely on you, how you were reacting, as his hips were continuously slamming into your body as if it were clockwork. The sight alone had your walls clamping down on him, earning a groan from the base of his chest.

Suddenly, the hand that had been intertwined with yours released its grip and began to rummage through Suguru’s discarded pants. Your breath hitched, eyes glazed over as you watched him retrieve a knife from his pocket, unsheathing it effortlessly with a flick of his finger. The sharp glint of the blade caught your attention from beneath Suguru’s body, even as he continued thrusting into you, not missing a beat.

Your body reacted instinctively, clenching at the sight, drawing a low, dark chuckle from Suguru.

“Hah, I knew it,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he brought the cold steel to the base of your throat. “You’re just a slut for knives, aren’t you?”

A moan escaped your lips, the sound betraying any chance of denial. Suguru took it as an admission, pressing the blade firmly against the skin of your throat as he angled his hips to hit even deeper inside you. The cool metal at your throat was electrifying, but it was his other hand, strong and unyielding, that sent a euphoric thrill coursing through you. His fingers flexed, tightening around your neck, the pressure intensifying.

It wasn’t just the air being cut off—it was the dizzying, intoxicating pleasure that came with it. The way his grip constricted, pushing you to the edge of control, ignited something raw inside. Every squeeze of his hand made your body burn hotter, a perfect balance between pain and pleasure, leaving you gasping for more.

What a primal dirty sight you where, being choked with a blade against your throat while fucked brutaly. Even the devil would clutch his rosaries.

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" Suguru grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. “Because we were doing it like this in mine.” Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls and the adrenaline from the knife is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Suguru makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

"Come on eyes on me when I fuck you baby~" Suguru releases his hold from your neck and snakes his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.

He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

"So good Sugu!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.

"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long." Suguru is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words. Fuck, he wants to keep himself inside you forever. He wants your kisses, your skin, your touch, your blood, your lips, to be his to claim until you die together. No one has seen, truly seen him, before you. You are what he thinks about when he wakes up, when he is eating, when he is plunging his knife into some worthless monkey. You are his goddess.

The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.

Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in a new angle that has your body jerking.

“Found it didn't I?” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy

And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.

Its like all your body's energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.

You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried desperately to communicate.

“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"

So you do.

Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Suguru as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

“Ah, princess, please,” he moaned. “Be a good girl and take it all, yeah?”

Your fingers trailed up his shoulder, only to drag them back down his spine, nails biting into his skin as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a powerful shudder. His movements grew erratic, hips pressing yours firmly into the mattress as his hot breath skimmed across your neck, ragged and heavy.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, lost in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the feel of his touch to guide you.

The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him. As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"You're mine ok?" Suguru coos, and all you can do is dumbly nod.

"I'll die for you, I'll kill a thousand monkeys for you, i'll hold them down so you can cut our their eyes. Just stay by my side."

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #getou x reader #geto x you #geto x reader smut #getou x you #getou smut #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #kinktober

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thebluester2020 · 2 months ago

Text

[SDV] SDV Bachelors x Reader With Big Tits

Give your thanks to @angelsfics221 !

Summary: The SDV Bachelors (+ Maru ) being horndogs over the reader/farmer having a huge pair of personalities.

Warning(s): Pure horny energy from the jump, Masturbation, The guys are big tit fiends ngl, Top! Reader (In Maru's part), Whiny Alex + Sam (I kinda always write whiny Sam though)

Side Note(s): As a member of the big titties club. I'm a certified PHD at this topic (And the fact that, once you have a rack, you sign away any rights to doing jumping jacks again—)

Hope you enjoy! Sorry for the long wait 😔

Elliot

Nipple sucking while giving him a blow-job.

That's all I need to say.

While I imagine that Elliot would be respectful, don't get me wrong. He's still human and he has fantasies like anyone else would! I'd like to imagine that he truly appreciated your huge personalities when summer came.

After you finished your chores for the day, you decided to take a trip to the beach and have some fun in the water! And when Elliot stepped out of his cabin to innocently read on the pier—

He didn't even notice he had dropped his book when he saw you. Your two-piece almost seeming to struggle holding your tits in as you lightly kicked at the water and splashed in it.

Each time you bent down to scoop water into your hands, blissfully unaware of the man whose eyes were practically glued to your figure. The writer felt like he had been transported to heaven and back.

He knew he had to talk to you and that he did!

A conversation that went sooo well that you were more than happy to tour his small cabin and let him appreciate your figure from a whole lot closer than the pier.

♡ - Elliot's mind was dizzy with lust and shame.

Usually, he'd have more decorum than this.

He'd first get to know a person, learn their hobbies and interests as well as their personality long before the idea of sex even dared to cross his mind, much less think to slip from his tongue! But with you? It seemed like all manners just went out the window.

That first glimpse of you at the beach was enough to make his knees buckle and his book fall into the salty water below, immediately forgotten about in the face of your breasts threatening to slip from your bikini with each movement you made, but now? As he relished in the feeling of your hand tenderly stroking his dick as he sucked at your nipple, his hand gently massaging the other and eliciting sweet moans from your kiss-swollen lips—he could really care less about manners and decorum.

Especially with how he struggled to delay his orgasm to enjoy this moment even longer. "Such gorgeous tits..." Elliot moaned against your chest, not wanting to part from your nipple for even a second.

Your face flushed at the compliment before a drawn-out moan left your lips when Elliot's hand went from your breast to your aching sex, his finger quickly finding your hard clit before he began to gently pet at it. Your hips bucked forward unconsciously, a shudder running up and down your spine as you moaned breathlessly at the light touching Elliot delivered onto you.

You were briefly snapped from your mind slowly losing its grip on reality when Elliot suddenly hissed, causing you to quickly realize you had gripped him too hard. "...S-Sorry..." You said. Before you could move your hand from his cock, Elliot's hand shot down to grab your wrist before he guided you back to his leaking dick, briefly parting from your breast, his eyes dark with lust. "I'm...fine." He said, having to inhale deeply between each word.

"Squeeze me again," Then, he immediately returned to your breast, lightly nipping at your nipple. When Elliot felt your hand began to squeeze his cock, gently rubbing him up and down, he bucked up into your hand as his mind wasted no time swarming with even dirtier thoughts of what he wanted to do to you. He desperately wanted to know what your tits would look like, how they would move when he fucked you, he wanted to mark them up, pinch and knead at them as if he were playing with a toy.

And he knows you'd let him do whatever he wants with you.

You were all too eager to shed your clothes and let him kneel before you before he all too quickly sucked and massaged your breasts, like a devotee worshipping their goddess— "F-Fuck..." Elliot whispered against you as he felt his orgasm creeping up on him. "Baby...please."

Your cunt clenched at his light begging as you then lightly smirked, your ministrations on him quickening much to the writer's delight. He grasped onto you tighter, holding onto you as if you were his lifeline and the only thing keeping him from descending into the depths of madness. Babbles of "pleasepleaseplease" and "I'm so close, don't stop" fell from his lips as easy as water would from a broken dam. You were so engrossed in his begging, you hadn't noticed he had came until he suddenly threw his head back to let out a loud unfiltered moan and warmth covered the top of your hand.

You looked at his twitching dick, his cum seeming to flow out from his tip endlessly until Elliot finally relaxed against you.

You couldn't let this be a one-time thing, and neither could he! You both were definitely going to keep in contact with one another.

Sebastian

Shockingly, I think he'd be the least horniest on this list.

Like yeah, he's not going to say no to groping and sucking a pair of huge tits but I'm standing firm on the hill that he's either an ass or thigh man.

However, when y'all had reached the stage where you two were dating and you eventually brought him over to your house?

As he watched you bounce up and down on his dick, the plapping noises alongside your tits moving in front of his face nearly made him cum on the spot.

To him? He felt like he had suddenly been placed right in the middle of a porno and the idea of marking up your tits was wayyyy too irresistible to him all of a sudden.

♡ - He felt like he was losing his mind by the passing second.

Drool dribbled from the side of his mouth, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth as he watched the arousing sight of you using him as if he were your own personal dildo, bouncing yourself up and down his cock. "Fuckfuckfuck...!" Sebastian whined as he gripped your thighs even tighter.

His moans and whines only fueled you to go faster before you fell forward a little, placing your hands on either side of Sebastian's head as you gripped the sheets and fucked yourself onto him even harder. "S-Shit...!" You cried out. "Sebby...your twitching so much," You breathlessly teased him, the rest of your words dying in your throat in the face of your boyfriend's dick practically sending you to an entirely different reality. But, while Sebastian's cock made you dumb in the skull...heart eyes nearly formed in Sebastian's gaze as his vision was locked onto the way your breasts moved up and down in front of his face.

Now, he didn't consider himself a boob man and was more into your thighs and ass.

However, he'd think something was wrong with him if his mouth didn't water at the sight of your tits moving in his face. Unmarked and practically begging for his mouth to latch onto them.

Which is exactly what he did.

"Fuuuckkk..." He groaned deeply, lifting his head ever so slightly to latch onto one of your nipples. As he begun to suck, he grunted when he felt you clench even tighter around his cock, nearly making him cum right then and there before pushing aside the feeling in the wake of wanting to enjoy your tits even longer as you fucked him. And especially how you looked at him as he did so. The darks of your pupils nearly took over the color of your eyes as you fucked yourself even harder onto him.

"So cute Seb~" You praised before you gasped when you felt his cock twitch inside you again.

You knew that he was weak to your praises, even in a more innocent setting, when you'd praise him for something so simple such as taking out the trash for you. He'd blush and turn his head away so cutely! But now? As he sucked and lightly bit on your nipples, his grip on your thighs tightening by the moment as he started to lose control and gently fuck up into you...the sheer pleasure of his cockhead touching the deepest parts inside of you, you knew that he deserved wayyyyy more praise for making you feel so good. "My tits are enough to make you like this?" You continued to speak, biting back your moans as much as you could to push out your words. "If I knew this, I would let you kiss and suck on them as much as you like Sebby—" Sebastian responded with a groan before it weakened into a whine, one of his eyes cracking open to look up at you as his pace quickened even more, the force of his thrusts punching out even more moans and whines out from your lips.

Your eyes threatened to roll to the back of your head. "Shit...!" You gasped. "Just like that...! Keep fucking me juusst like that~!" You moaned as you lost control in your arms a little, your tits squishing against Sebastian's face even more than they already were.

And that was enough to break the poor man as both of his hands suddenly wrapped around your torso while his feet dug into the bed, his hips suddenly pistoning up into you as he fucked you like he suddenly hated you. Tears of pleasure began to escape from the corner of your eyes as you felt the knot in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten almost painfully as you begged for your boyfriend to make you cum over his cock.

"S-Sebastian!" You cried out as you tits squished even more against him, your hands tangling themselves in his hair. With one last thrust and muffled moan, he suddenly stilled against you just as the knot inside you snapped, a sharp gushing sound splitting against Sebastian's abdomen and thighs as you both blanked out momentarily from your respective orgasms.

And when you started to come back down...you were the first to quickly lift yourself so you didn't accidentally smother your boyfriend. "S-Seb?" You stuttered, a combination of sudden embarrassment and still trying to come back from your orgasm. "I didn't mean to smother—"

He interrupted you with a shake of his head as his grip around your torso tightened once more. "Let's do that again."

Sam

I'm pretty sure all of y'all are familiar with how cartoon characters' eyes will bulge out when they someone they like, right? Yeah, Sam's eyes do that the moment he sees you for the first time.

One day, he was riding through town on his skateboard before he briefly heard Lewis mention the new farmer in town to someone! Sam had no clue what you looked like but he at least hoped you were friendly.

So imagine the way he absolutely eats dirt when he sees you for the first time.

Gorgeous and with a pair of tits that were nothing to scoff at? As he dusted the dirt from himself, he nearly cursed himself out for embarrassing himself in front of you without even getting a chance to say hello yet!

Luckily, you were laidback and friendly, only smiling briefly as you helped Sam up and introduced yourself in the process.

You were sooooo sweet. But god it was hard for Sam to keep his eyes on your face when faint droplets of sweat were rolling down your neck before disappearing into the valley of your breasts. It had him struggling to breathe and wishing that the pleasantries would end soon so he could go home.

All so he could fist his cock to a porn video of a woman that looked suspiciously like you

Until he gained the courage to speak to you again + got over the guilt of fucking his hand to the new farmer in town who had only arrived a few days ago. You were a star feature in every single daydream he had of you (which was nearly every day at this point) while he moaned out your name in his bedroom.

♡ - "Oh Yoba..."

Sam was currently in his room, all of his lights turned off and his phone at the lowest possible volume as he fisted his dick under the covers, all as his eyes were glued to the screen held in his hand. Earlier today, he had the pleasure of meeting a beautiful new face in town!

You.

You seemed so warm-hearted and friendly...and you were oh so pretty as well. But...what really caused Sam to be fucking his fist like some depraved pervert to the new farmer in town? Your huge tits, they alone were the reason he fell on his skateboard in front of you and made a complete ass of himself! Although you were kind and helpful to him (adding only more fuel to the fire of him suddenly lusting after you), as you bent down to help him up, your shirt revealing the tops of your breasts did nothing to help quell the boner that was suddenly raging in his pants.

Which is how he arrived at this very moment, looking at a porno of a woman whose breasts resembled your own all as she gave a boobjob to a dildo. The woman's face being covered only added to Sam's imagination as he could easily think of the woman being you and...instead of a dildo, it was his cock instead that you were slowly dragging your tits up and down on— "O-Oh fuck..." He cursed breathlessly, the bitten part of his shirt falling from his lips as Sam's breathless moans escaped from his lips.

His eyes began to burn with unshed tears of pleasure as he watched the woman's movement begin to speed up, his hands speeding up in order to quickly match the pace before the woman began to speak. 'She sounds nice...' Sam thought absentmindedly until his mind drifted back over to your face, coated in light pretty make-up with an accentuation to your lips.

He squeezed the head of his cock at the thought of your lips gently suckling his cockhead as you rubbed your soft tits up and down him, your half-lidded eyes looking up at him through your lashes while the faintest hint of a smirk could be seen. At another time, Sam would've felt mildly disgusted about what he was doing, he barely even knew you and yet he was pre-cum was leaking from his tip so much at the sheer idea of you treating his cock so well.

Sam's head sunk further into his pillow as he felt his orgasm quickly approaching, the hand that held his phone falling out of his hand before he began to massage his leaky tip. "Y/N...!" He panted even louder. Electricity felt like it was dancing throughout his body as his hips bucked up into his hand in search of more pleasure, the blonde's mind only filled with one single thing.

You, you, you, you, you.

How pretty you were and how gorgeous your tits were as you helped him stand back up. How friendly you were and how much he wished that his cock hadn't ruined the conversation the two of you were having, he desperately wanted to talk to you more...see where things went and— "S-Shit...!" Sam gasped, managing to give his cock a few more strokes before he felt strings of ropey cum hit his abdomen. As he gently fell back from Cloud 9, he released a breath he hadn't even known he was holding in before he relaxed.

Once he was free of his embarrassment of falling in front of you earlier today and masturbating to you despite barely even knowing you to begin with. He'd definitely work up the courage to speak to you more.

Harvey

Very respectful, very demure. He's not blind to the fact that you have huge tits but he's not going to go wild over them (to your face)

But when the time comes for you to have your yearly wellness check. I have a feeling that's his favorite time of the year as feeling up your tits to check for your lumps literally makes him ascend to the moon, only after making sure you were healthy of course!

But as soon as that check-up ends? Cue this man alerting Maru at the front desk that he's going to rest for a little in his room.

A quick masturbation sesh with you starring in it, all as he imagines playing and kneading your chest—he's never cum so fast.

But now he can't look at you without nearly turning into a tomato either.

♡ - A doctor should never do this.

It violated every rule in the book, even if you didn't know. He knew!

But, as Harvey currently sat on his bed, biting on his shirt like his life depended on it. His brain could only think of you and you alone, and how soft your tits felt in his hands. Like clouds almost, a regular procedure that he had done time and time again for many types of patients shouldn't have had his cock aching like this! But...you, you were different. Throughout the procedure, you had to have known what you were doing as you kept a steady eye on him as he moved the stethoscope over your chest to listen to your heartbeat.

While he stood in front of you nearly giving himself a nosebleed from how hard he was blushing, you looked at him with a soft smile without a single care in the world, as if you didn't know how you were affecting him!

And the second your wellness check was over...he was all too eager to rush back to his room, grab some lotion and tend to his leaky dick— "Miss Y/N..." He moaned to himself quietly, despite the situation and you not physically being here, he at least had enough decency left to refer to you in a respectful manner despite what he was doing. He tried not to let his thoughts sink into depravity too much, simply masturbating to the imagination of how your chest felt against him...and how much he wanted to see what they looked like without your shirt to cover them...and then if you would let him suck them— "S-Shit—!" He threw his head back suddenly to cry out before electricity suddenly sparked throughout his veins, a warmth suddenly coating his fist before he shakily looked down.

Harvey stared down at his cum-coated dick and fist in a daze for a long few minutes, he had never cum so quickly much less to the thought of someone who was essentially a complete stranger! Perhaps he was the one who actually needed the check-up...or, maybe it was best to stay away from you altogether...to avoid another bad situation like this.

Alex

The second least horniest on this list.

Not that he's not attracted to your huge personalities of course! It's just—everything about you is attractive to him. Your full figure and the mere sight of it was already enough to make him throb in his pants, your tits were just a nice added bonus.

Buutttt, when you two get to know each other and start becoming intimate, he's definitely not saying no to the possibility of straddling your torso and fucking your tits.

That night alone made him switch of to having a preference for tits ever since.

♡ - "You're sooooo dirty for letting me do this babe~"

It was a bit contradictory, he'd admit, Alex was the one who suddenly came up to you one day with the suggestion of fucking your tits! Although he was more of an ass man and was your number one fan of fucking up into you as you sat on his cock reverse cowgirl...when you'd face him, and watch how your tits would move up and down in a hypnotizing fashion—it was exactly how things got to where they were now.

Him straddling your torso as he pressed your boobs together around his girthy cock, your head turned down a little to lap at his cock each time it began to poke at your lips. The sight of you licking his tip as he fucked your tits made Alex's mouth water, the urge to cum stronger than ever but he was determined to hold back. He definitely didn't want this moment to end too soon. "Fuck..." He moaned as he leaned forward a little, bracing a hand just above your head as he began to grip the sheets as his pace sped up, your hands quickly pressing your breasts together to keep them squished around his leaky cock.

"Your boobs feel so good baby...we should do this every day, huh?"

You responded via suckling on his tip, the act alone making Alex whine as lewd plapping noises could quietly be heard from how hard he was fucking your chest, as if he were actually fucking your pussy. And his mind? He might as well have been! In this moment, the titjob you were giving him was just as addicting as the warm walls of your pussy. Each thrust was eager, every movement of his hips that brought his cock backward was followed by him rushing to thrust forward again as your soft lips were the reward.

But it was when you started to massage his cockhead with the palm of your hand that he really began to lose it. "F-Fuck—!" Alex cried out, his head dropping to dizzily look at the bedsheets as he tried to hold onto his sanity, hold onto his noises.

You definitely weren't going to have that. "Don't hold back your sounds Alex." Your voice just barely managed to reach Alex's ears over the sound of his rushing pulse in his ears and the sound of skin slapping against skin. Your request made his ears began to turn red and his cheeks burn, you were supposed to be the one who was noisy, not him! But...every attempt to refocus his brain and contain his sounds, turn them from whines into groans ended in pure failure as he couldn't deny how much he was enjoying your tits. "B-Baby..." He moaned. "Pleasepleaseplease....let me cum on your pretty tits..." He begged as his rhythm grew sloppier, pre-cum practically spilling every on your chest with how close he was to his orgasm.

The sound and sight of your boyfriend being so needy, begging you to cum when it was typically the other way around nearly made you cum untouched. You were absolutely loving this!

How could you ever think to say no?

"Cum on my tits babe," You moaned, replacing the palm of your hands with your mouth. The way the flat of your tongue lapped at his slit was all it took for the dam to break, Alex's abdomen flexing as he came, ropes of his hot cum flooding your mouth before it began to dribble out the sides of your lips when it became too much for you to drink down. Yet, when he was able to, when Alex slid himself away from the warm comforts of your chest to see what he had done to you...the trails of cum that dribbled out the sides of your mouth along with the leaky trail he left along your chest and stomach.

How you looked at him as if you wanted more.

He felt himself hardening almost immediately. "S-Sexy..." He stuttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Can...we do that again?"

Shane

Your very own personal tit massager

But I feel like he'd have his own little special place in the realm of big tit enjoyers (Though it'd be similar to Alex)

Everything about you is attractive to him, whether you have a fat ass, flat ass, big tits or small tits! Nothing could turn you off for him.

With this being said though—I genuinely believe that your tits are more so a way for him to further get you in the mood rather than him being obsessed over him. He likes your huge boobs, don't get me wrong but he'd slowly massage them while thigh-fucking you slowly. He wants you to get you in the mood, make you practically beg him to stop playing with your boobs and fuck you like a whore instead!

Fast and rough sex right from the start is all fun and all but—

He definitely enjoys the wait as well, hearing you all but scream for him to fuck you is enough to nearly make him cum on the spot.

♡ - "Shane...please." You begged sweetly into his ear as your boyfriend sat behind you, gently fucking your thighs while his head sat on your shoulder, looking over at the way he massaged your boobs.

And he did so with an intensely watchful eye. The weight and warmth of your tits made him harder and harder by the second. When Shane suggested fucking your thighs while he played with your tits, it was a...prelude of sorts, this wasn't enough to make him cum and even if it was, his cum was reserved for your mouth or pussy only. This foreplay was less about him and more so you, a way for him to listen to your needy moans and imagine how dirty they would become as you would soon scream for him once he speared you on his cock.

"Y' beg so cutely honey, almost makes me wanna fuck your gushing pussy next..." He whispered in your ear, his deep voice in combination with how he lightly bit the shell of your ear making you whine as you clenched around nothing. And the feeling of his cock lightly rubbing against your cunt, not enough to pleasure you but enough to let you know that it was there just out of reach from where you needed him the most.

It was enough to nearly drive you insane. "T-Then fuck my pussy..." You panted. "P-Please?"

You pouted cutely when Shane made a humming noise as if he were genuinely considering your request. "Nah." He smirked wickedly before he gently pinched your nipple, your grip on his forearms tightening at the action. "Let me enjoy these fat tits a lil' longer honey, along with these thighs..." He sped up his thrusts to accentuate his words, the increased speed of his thrusts doing a little more to just begin to rub against your hard clit but still...definitely not enough to make you cum.

"Shane, please."

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, his brow cocking upward lazily as if he were searching for something more. He was having so much fun playing with you as he was!

For ruining his fun so early on...he was going to make you work for the privilege of his dick fucking you stupid. "So impatient," With the way he clicked his tongue, you would've almost thought he were genuinely annoyed if you hadn't seen that ghost of a smirk begin to tickle the edges of his mouth. "Y' gotta beg me better than that for ruinin' my fun hon'."

Your cheeks burned even brighter, your face hiding in the crook of his neck in an attempt to briefly hide yourself away.

Yet, Shane didn't let it last long with how his thrusts all of a sudden slowed down and his hands stopped moving. "Well?"

You took your head from his neck, looking up at him with a teary expression. "P-Please..." You started.

His brow rose even higher, a silent warning of 'Not good enough'.

"Shane...please—!" You whined. "Fuck my aching pussy, I wanna cum on your cock...i-it hurts!" The dick had the nerve to hum again! The wait was making you ache even more than ever! But, just before you were about to smack his arm out of your own fit of annoyance, Shane suddenly parted your legs to begin rubbing fierce circles on your clit, the sudden pleasure making you throw your head back to let out a shrill moan.

"Fine, fine." He chuckled.

"I'll fuck this needy lil' pussy."

Bonus! Maru

I'm not going to lie, I only included Maru because corruption kinks go brrr.

So let's set the scene like this, Maru spots the farmer and immediately gains a crush on them. Your entire figure as well as how warm-hearted you appeared to be had the poor girl head-over-heels for you in a matter of minutes.

When you finally find a chance to talk to Maru, you immediately love how shy she appears to be around you and how she tries to make it not obvious that she's stealing glances at your tits.

Butttt there's a problem. Demetrius and him being overprotective of his daughter.

So the farmer plays the long game with Maru, flirting with her which turns into Maru being out later and later to spend more time with the farmer. Which then turns into her sneaking out late at night to go to the farmer's house.

And it doesn't take a genius to know what happened next once Maru and the farmer got to that stage.

The farmer coaxing Maru into multiple orgasms while she got to suck and massage the farmer's tits!

♡ - When you first came to this town, you had never thought that you would find someone as cute as Maru. When she had introduced herself to you, the way she tried to keep her eyes everywhere but your chest was amusing to say the least, enough to where you wanted to get to know her more! You wouldn't deny that you were a fan of shy girls.

But...you supposed that your least favorite thing about shy women was the potential they had for an overprotective father.

Which Maru had.

Demetrius.

But you were nothing if not patient, you flirted with Maru and talked to her as much as you could. You hardly said a word to her before she was the one who was talking to you until the wee hours of the morning, and you definitely didn't say anything when she started appearing at your house all of a sudden! All as she confessed that she snuck out just to talk to you a little bit longer!

You blushed at the bold confession but it both warmed your heart and worried you, you liked her but you neither wanted to get her into trouble much less have Demetrius coming to your doorstep asking where Maru was when she was a grown woman.

But...you supposed it was too late to be worried about such things now.

Especially as you and Maru were currently in bed together, Maru weakly kneading your tits adorably as her eyes glazed over with pleasure as you circled and played with her clit. "Feels good, huh?" You giggled, another fit of giggles leaving your lips when she nodded her head dumbly. "Cutie...you should use your words~" You then began to slow your fingers down, shocking Maru enough for her to stutter.

"F-Feels good...!" She said. "Don't...don't stop, please?"

Maru suddenly let out a gasp, followed by a soft moan as you quickly started circling her throbbing clit once more, her slick beginning to coat your thigh as she mindlessly started to grind herself against you all as she tried to pleasure you in return via lazily sucking on your tits. Your cunt clenched at the adorable sight, especially how she looked up at you through lidded eyes but tonight wasn't about you, you were intent on giving Maru her first real orgasm with your own fingers.

And...getting her to that point almost seemed too easy with the way she was beginning to squirm, causing you to wrap an arm around her to fasten her to yourself so she wasn't able to escape. "Y' close Maru~?" You whispered in her ear, her clit twitching in response. "Your practically soaking my thigh."

When Maru tried tucking her face in the valley between your breasts, you once again took your fingers away much to her disappointment. "Why—"

"Girls who hide don't get their cunts touched," You said teasingly but with a present firmness that made your lover nod her head before her moans once again began to leave her lips as you pinched her clit. Suddenly, her mind began to spin as the pace of your fingers started to speed up, the mind-numbing pleasure in combination with the brief stints of pain you'd deliver via suddenly pinching her clit creating a delicious concoction that practically made her scream.

Until her vision suddenly blanked, your eyes widening at the way Maru squirted on your thigh as a shrill moan let her throat. You whistled lowly at the arousing sight, your mouth watering as you all of a sudden wished that you could taste it.

But...as your partner's head fell onto your chest, her body heaving as she attempted to catch her breath. Once she was finished coming down from her high...you were determined to make her cum again, this time on your mouth.

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konigsblog · 7 months ago

Note

Pathetic!Konig with one of those insanely expensive real silicone dolls that he's had custom made to look very similar to his favourite little Darling. Practicing on his Doll so he can get it right with his Darling every single night.

Oh, he absolutely would.

He'd dress the customised and personalised doll in articles of your stolen clothing, usually worn and filthy pairs of panties that he's slobbered over and jerked off with, coated in strings of his milky and pearly semen. The doll is a perfect fit, with the exact dimensions and height. König will buy this doll expensive and pricey lingerie, fantasising that he has you in front of him, spread out and prepared to take his hung, sore cock for the first time. If you found out about his little perverted and twisted hobby, you'd shame and berate him for his audacity, be horrified and disgusted of the man you've grown to know and love. He knows it's disturbing, but he can't bring himself to put an end to his wicked and gross habits.

He eagerly checks his phone for notifications, searching for a message from you, eagerly waiting for a good morning message. You consume his every thought, plague his rotten mind. You haunt his every waking moment and the dreams he has, leading to him having a painfully stiff, leaking boner every single morning. He takes pictures of the sex doll in a plethora of different positions, grinding his hard length into the hole while murmuring your name drunkenly through strings of hoarse and guttural grumbles.

He plans everything out so meticulously and carefully, making sure that every detail has been throughout and prepared for. He just wants to practice on a doll before he finally has you. You know he's inexperienced, Mäuschen... He can't get you out of his head. :(

#orla speaks #cod x reader #könig call of duty #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig #könig cod #cod mw2 #konig call of duty

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celeste-clearwater-06 · 2 months ago

Text

The Kitchen Window (pt. 4)

Bayverse! Raphael x Fem! Reader

desc- (everything finally clicks into place when you're invited over to Vern's place. some new friends mean new experiences)

warnings - swearing

word count - 4.7k (I told y'allll)

READ PREVIOUS PARTS HERE - one - two - three

You’ve been brooding the past couple of days. Life has been sucker punching you in the gut, one insane, unthinkable blow at a time.

Work hours are getting ridiculously longer, April O’Neil hasn’t texted you back since the night you spilled all of your secrets. And you haven’t seen or heard Raphael around. Not that important, but it still contributes to the pile of miserable shit you’re handling. Thankfully, Vannie seems to be filling that lonely space in your flat. She’s a sweet relief to see at the end of each night when you get back from work, purring and content. You hadn’t realized how nice it was to come home to someone that’s so pleased to see you. She’s helping you cope, even if just a little. A cat tree now sits in the far corner of your living room so she’s not climbing all over the counters and scratching at your sofa. Though simple, it adds a new, homey addition to the space.

This night off is uneventful. Vannie sits in your lap, fast sleep, while you mindlessly scroll on your phone and sip on a glass of fruit juice that’s been sitting in your fridge for just a little too long. Hometown highschool friends with their engagement rings and college graduation posts. Not something that you particularly yearned for, but it still hurt a little. It was probably time to pick up a damn hobby. Vern texts you. What a surprise.

[Hey kiddo]

He hasn’t called you that in a long time. It makes your throat tighten up.

[what up big man]

It takes him a second to type out another text.

[I know we haven’t seen each other much. Figured you might wanna come see my apartment? it’s nice]

An invite to your older brother’s fancy new place is the last thing you’d expected in the form of a late night message.

[tonight?]

[tommorow]

[hell yeah]

Finally, a small start to getting better. Vannie stretches in your lap and you stroke her fur.

The subway ride uptown is weird. You forget that there’s literal trains running underground, after walking to and from work for so long. It would be more exciting, if not for being sandwiched between two total strangers and the silence of people kind of just looking around. The screech of wheels on the tracks breaks it every once in a while. You’re also not a fan of the shoving and pushing of total strangers through the way-too-small sliding doors when you reach your destination, almost tripping at least twice. Rude.

At the very least, Vern’s apartment complex was just two blocks away from the subway exit. You knew the upper parts of the city were nicer, but it doesn’t really hit until you’re walking on the wide sidewalks and passing restaurants and window shops that put your cafe to shame. Even the early afternoon atmosphere just seems less heavy. There’s more light. You catch just a few more passing smiles than you usually would, up the steps into the main building, where you have to press a button and announce you’re a visitor to your older brother.

The elevator takes you to the 11th floor of the nicest complex you’ve ever been in (not that you’d been in many anyhow).

The whole way here, you've been excited to see Vern, practically bouncing with every step all the way up to his door. But now your fist freezes right above the place where you’re about to knock. Something was so off about this. You rap your knuckles on the wood anyway.

Someone opens the door, after a few shuffling footsteps, and it’s not Vern. Your heart drops.

“April?” A voice crack slips its way through your dry throat.

Oh my god. She’s told him everything.

She told your older brother all of your insane ramblings, and now she’s greeting you with a friendly smile like it’s nothing. So this is what the invitation was all about. The both of them were probably waiting inside with a psychologist or a one way ticket to a padded room. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Oh hey!” April is warm with her greeting, but it does nothing to shake the spirit of your utter confusion. To add to it all, Vern’s head peeks over hers with a weak wave of his hand and a sheepish expression.

“Hey kiddo.”

You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between them. The reporter still holds that confident, close-mouthed smile, while your older brother is struggling to keep it together.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” it’s more of a question than a statement, “Are we having a little get together or something?”

Vern tries to speak, but April cuts him off.

“Yeah we figured it’d be good to talk here!”

You can’t protest when she grabs your arm and all but drags you through the doorway and slams it shut, leaving you in the entryway of a lavish, modern, way-too-white apartment. It’s hard to process anything going on. The scenery, Vern’s guilt ridden eyes and the millions of thoughts firing in your brain are all increasingly overwhelming. You're starting to get a headache.

“L-Look, April, about the other night-“

“You don’t have to explain anything.” She pulls you again, this time in the middle of taking your shoes off and past the coat rack. You catch your brother's eye and he looks nearly as lost as you feel. April continues.

“It’s about time we talked about this anyway.”

That makes you nervous. You’re being led into a nice kitchen, Vern at your heels and watching helplessly.

“We don‘t have to!” You exclaim and yank your wrist from her determined hold, “I was just-just tired! I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep, I know I sounded like a total maniac-“

She is completely uninterested in hearing your case, instead rolling her eyes and taking hold of your arm once again.

“We can just forget this whole thing! The loneliness has been getting to me, it’s really…not…”

When you step past the wall of the kitchen you trail off, dumbfounded to silence. All and any rational thought has fled.

Raphael, your savior, the giant fucking turtle, is standing, cross-armed, and a little nervous looking, next to three others that look eerily similar in their stature and green scales, though they all wear vastly different expressions that give away their thoughts. They’re all decked in various scraps of gear and oversized clothing, and like the one in red, have different colored bandanas over their eyes.

You look and feel like a total moron. Just standing there, mouth agape, only wearing one shoe and eyes flicking between the quartet of reptiles and your brother, who’s pinching his temple between two fingers in distress. The shortest of the four offers an over exaggerated smile and wave, before being kicked in the back of the leg, by another in a blue mask. He looks immensely annoyed. You have no idea what to say and when you open your mouth to speak, a flustered gasp squeezes its way from the back of your throat.

“I told you guys this was a shit idea,” Vern says. The tallest turtle shifts his weight from one large foot to another. It’s so quiet, so awkward, and yet you’re so discombobulated, your head starts to spin and you lean against the wall for support. You knew there was more than one night assailant. But four? And all nearly the same size and appearance? This was beyond absurd.

“Okay,” your voice is quiet, but it immediately captures the attention of everyone that’s standing in the room, “Can someone, genuinely, please tell me what the fuck is happening right now.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you right away.” April speaks up from behind you. You turn to see her apologetic eyes. Your silence prompts her to continue an explanation.

“These are my friends.” She sounds like trying to tame some wild animal, and her arm sweeps out to gesture towards the four, “I just wanted to see, you know… if it was really just ‘some guy’ that stopped whoever was grabbing you.”

Guess she was right. You rotate once again at Vern who is trying to avoid eye contact.

“You knew?!”

Everyone jumps at the sudden escalation in your shocked question.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!”

You scoff.

“What, am I supposed to just tell you I’m acquainted with four, crime fighting, ninja turtles?! I’d sound batshit crazy!”

It was only fair that he thought that way. Suddenly, your distant, uninvolved brother was in your exact shoes, and your shoulders slump downwards in exasperation.

“So would I, Vern! I knew- I knew-, I wasn’t insane, but this whole situation has been eating at me for fucking weeks!”

If not for the absolute shock running through you, you would have laughed at the way April and the vigilantes just stand there and watch your argument like it’s reality TV, turning their heads each time one of you speaks up.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? You should be glad we're telling you now!”

You throw your hands in the air and roll your eyes, once again rendered speechless.

A different voice pulls you from the confrontation. It’s the one in blue, now standing a little nearer to you. He’s massive, just like the others, even more now up close. You’re still not used to them talking in perfect, clear English. Or, really, at all.

“Sorry we had to meet this way.” His voice is deep, mature, and assertive. Surely the head honcho of the group. He’s smiling like it’s a peace offering, lopsided and gentle.

“I-I don’t-“ You search for the right response, but he does the talking for you and offers a calloused, three fingered hand.

“Leonardo.”

A long pause. Then an overtaxed sigh. You accept his introduction and awkwardly take it. You’re literally shaking a talking turtle's hand.

“I guess you already know my name.”

“We sure do, angel!” Leonardo is being shoved suddenly, quickly replaced with the energetic, shortest of the party. His bandanna is orange, and he’s puffing out his chest with confidence that out’s Vern’s ego to sorry shame. It immediately puts a curious smile on your face.

“I’m Michealangelo, but all the ladies call me Mikey.”

He grabs your hand delicately and places a cool kiss to the back of it while he bows toward the floor. You can’t do anything but awkwardly chuckle and watch as the others groan and cover their faces in embarrassment. This guy was pretty funny.

“Save some for the rest of us, Mike.”

You look to the tallest, who’s pushing the thick-lensed, tortoise print glasses up his nose. He opts to wave his hand from where he’s standing, seeming to sense the already overwhelming lack of personal space you have.

“Donatello.” It’s the voice you overheard on the radio last week, that accidentally gave away Raphael’s name.

Oh. OH. It finally clicks in your brain. Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello. Raphael.

“Renaissance artists, huh?”

April meets your face with a kind of look that reads, ‘now you get it’.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Mikey kisses his flexed bicep, “Works of art.”

You laugh.

“I named my cat after Van Gogh.”

Raphael, still standing back from the group, lifts his head and meets your eyes at the mention of her. He looks away again, but a little smirk breaks as he rolls a toothpick off his tongue and in between his teeth.

The sort of shared interest seems to break a little bit of the tension, and the other three smile.

”Damn, Raph,” Mikey grins over at the ray of sunshine, “Not even gonna come say hi to your girlfriend?”

Your face flushes lightly. It’s clearly just a little jab to get under his skin, but you’re caught slightly off guard. Thankfully nobody seems to notice.

The smile’s gone, replaced with a huff of his nostril and a flick to Mikey’s head when Raphael walks over to finally introduce himself.

“Hey.”

You realize, this is the first time you’re standing in front of him without a window in the way. He’s still impossibly large. But you’re just so close. It feels almost foreign, witnessing the broad shoulders and tough plastron that pairs with those intense, forest colored eyes.

“Nice to meet you. Again.” Is all you can say, through a warm smile.

He snuffs, a sort of amused laugh, that makes you smile widely.

“Yeah. Sorry this got turned into such a big ordeal.”

“I don’t mind. I’m glad I got to put a name to the face.”

You two kind of just stare at each other in silence. Mikey doesn’t let it draw on for long.

“You need to let me see this cat!”

“Oh, of course!” You don’t realize how warm your face is until you’re grabbing your phone from your pocket.

April and Vern are standing near each other again, now a little more relaxed seeing you warm up and pull up a photo of Vannie from your camera roll while the four look over your shoulder. Mikey coos at a video of her playing with the strings of your hoodie.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

So maybe it wasn’t ideal, the execution of their plan. Maybe you felt a little betrayed by your brother and his friend.

But.

You’ve made four new friends. And, as odd as they come (and intimidating as they look), they seem to like the way you welcome into your life.

The weeks flying by after you meet the four brothers have gone so much better than before. You’re getting sleep, still working your job up at the cafe, you’ve got Vannie. And that late-night sound of the manhole sliding against asphalt in the back alleyway begins once again. Now when you awake early in the morning to its noise, you just smile and snuggle further into your covers, with the reassurance that there are no scary monsters or felons that stalk in the night. Just four city-protecting vigilantes doing what they do best.

On the weekends, you stay up late to their frequent visits to your kitchen window. They usually swing by for a quick chat or check in on you. Most of the time it’s Mikey or Raphael. Or both. Sometimes the younger will tag along just to pay Vannie a visit while you and Raphael make playful small talk. Donnie will come through your area every once in a while, and though he doesn’t talk as much as his other brothers, it’s a refreshment to just listen to him talk about the state of the city and whatever new nerdy experiment he’s got going on. Leo rarely visits, unless you happen to catch them all leaving the sewer exit and he sticks around to hear you tell a crazy story about a rude customer or stupid order you’ve had to deal with during the week.

It’s so refreshing to have friends to talk to, even if it’s not every day.

Along with these pop ins, Raph’s been leaving things in your window on some of the nights you’re sleeping or coming home extra late from long shifts. Sometimes it’s a cool rock he found (who knows where), other times, an old abandoned action figure, or more recycled toys for Vannie. Your collection had accumulated on the dresser in your bedroom. It’s sweet.

Sometimes, you return the favor and leave him a cold drink you made at work by the open window before you flop into bed, exhausted. Summer’s rolling around the corner and even the nights get hot, especially considering moving around the city with all of his (badass) parkour. On occasion, you’ll make some for his siblings too, but the weird looks from your coworkers, leaving the shift with a cup holder full of unpaid drinks, limits this to every once in a while.

You don’t know it, but Raph feels so spoiled by your gifts to him.

Life is going so great, and you can feel the stone wall of his gruff exterior start to break when he chuckles at one of your jokes. Your heart warms when you think about him at work. As much as you enjoy seeing all of the brothers, it’s the red-banded one you’re drawn closest to. He makes you feel kind of giddy. It’s hard to put a label on it, but you’d love to call him your best friend, if not, one of your only.

It’s sticky and humid outside, on a late Saturday night in June. You’ve been watching a movie in your bedroom, with Vannie nestled beside you, sleeping, a bowl of microwave popcorn in your lap. The tv’s loud enough to almost drown out a little noise that comes from the kitchen. You barely hear it, but it catches your attention and you quickly snatch the remote to pause the movie.

Tap, tap, tap.

You smile. The shifting of the bed wakes up your cat, and she watches as you throw off the duvet and walk from the bedroom into the hall, bowl of popcorn in hand. When you pass the hall door, Raphael is grinning at you through the window and you fast-walk over to unlock the latch and slide it open. Humid air immediately flows in with his smug smile. Now you remember why the window was closed.

“Hey stranger.”

He snorts, and leans to rest his forearms on the sill.

“Whaddup, short stack?”

You shrug, and then offer out the bowl for him to take from. Raph grabs a handful and stuffs it in his mouth.

“What brings you to this part of town at…” you look at the stove clock, “3 in the morning.”

Raph talks while he’s chewing. A usually crude performance that you find kind of endearing.

“Slow night,” He swallows, and there’s a crumb on the corner of his lip, “Not a lot goin on for us out here.”

You nod, trying not to laugh at the leftovers that he clearly doesn’t notice. He quirks a brow.

“What?”

You reach out to try and swipe at it with your thumb but Raph flinches backwards.

“Come here!” Your laugh is soft, “You got something.”

He brings his face a little close and you wipe it away. It’s the first time you’ve touched his face, you realize. It’s cool, but there’s softer skin on his snout compared to the rest of his leathery scales. You try not to linger on it too much. He sees it on your thumb and playfully rolls his eyes. You can’t tell for sure, but there seems to be a little warmth creeping on his face. There’s tension.

“Yeah, I was savin’ that for later.”

Raph swats your hand away and you laugh.

“That hungry, huh?”

He nods.

“Actually yeah. We got leftover pizza at the lair, but I’m not supposed to be goin back for a while.”

“Want me to make you something real quick?”

He seems a little surprised at your offer (not like he’s gonna turn it down). You hear his stomach grumble.

“Can’t say no to that. How long you think it’ll take ya?”

“Probably a little bit. Do you wanna come inside?”

The invitation leaves your lips before you can think. None of the brothers had actually come inside your apartment before. It takes everything in you not to cringe and brace for the impact of his rejection while Raph looks at you with a perplexed glint in his eyes.

“Sure,” his answer sounds nonchalant, but his grin tells you a whole different story, “Dunno how you expect me to squeeze through this teeny little window though.”

You ponder for a second.

“You think you can sneak up to my front door?”

Raph shrugs.

“I can try. If I die, tell everyone it was your fault.”

You laugh.

“‘Vigilante turtle is found dead trying to get some of the worlds best chicken and rice.’ I can read the headlines now.”

He just shakes his head with a smirk, and then jumps off the fire escape.

“See you in a few.”

You shut the window, and in 45 seconds, there’s a knock at the door, and you rush over to open it and quickly let him in. Raph has to duck just a little to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe.

“Welcome to my crib.” It’s cringe, the way you lightly punch his shoulder.

“God, you sound like Mikey.”

“That was the goal.”

The turtle rolls his eyes, and then looks around the living room with a little smile.

“Gotta get you some decorations in here.”

You sigh.

“I know. I’m not here all the time. Plus I think Vannie would just knock shit over.”

Meow

“Speaking of.”

She’s already making her way over to him from your room, and rubs herself against his muscular calf.

“Hey kitty.”

Raph bends to give her head a little scritch, not following you over to the kitchenette where you’re pulling thawed chicken from the refrigerator.

“I think she missed you.”

He doesn’t respond, just looks up at your turned body, as you fill a small pot with water from the kitchen tap.

“You said chicken and rice, huh?”

You nod, looking back at him. He’s walking over to you, sandaled feet scuffing on the carpet.

“Small-apartment-owner staple. Plus it’s easy.”

He’s standing behind you now, arms crossed, and curiously watching as you turn on two of the stove burners.

“Probably not for me. I burn just about everythin I touch.”

You think quietly to yourself, the irony of such a hothead setting a bowl of cereal up in flames.

“This is super simple. I’ll teach you if you want.”

“Oh so you’re a barista and a culinary teacher

“This is one of the only things I can cook. You wanna cut up some of that for me?”

Raph sees you gesture to the unopened package of chicken, while you’re pouring a cup of white rice into the pot of slowly boiling water. Cutting, he could do.

The two of you work silently in the small space, ducking over and under each other to grab utensils and spices. You instruct him here and there, but still leave room for the comfortable quiet that’s settled in the air.

After about 15 minutes, you pour a bowl for each of you (his is filled just a little bit more than yours) and invite him to sit on the couch to eat together. The first bite he takes has his eyes rolling in the back of his head with a guttural groan. You flush from behind your fork.

“Good?”

“Fuckin good.”

Your giddy smile says it all. It’s flattering the way he eats without saying a word. You’re so at ease, sitting criss-cross on the couch next to this beast of a guy, both enjoying the comforts of a meal your mom had taught you how to make long before you had left for New-York. This felt so domestic. When he's done, Raph wipes his mouth and sets the bowl down on your coffee table, fork clattering against the ceramic, and leans back on the couch with a stretch. You’re only halfway through your dinner.

“That’s some Gordon Ramsey shit.”

You scoff.

“Hardly. But thank you.”

“Nah, thank you. I’m gettin tired of all that takeout Mike brings home.”

His eyes are closed, hands resting on his plastron, and feet kicked up onto the coffee table. Beautiful, you think, and you’re surprising yourself again with the thought. You take advantage of his relaxed eyes, eyes trailing up the long, muscular extent of his body. A weird, warm sensation trills its way up your body, when his broad chest moves with a heavy breath, stopping it’s way at your lungs to give them gentle squeeze. It slows your chewing. When Raph’s eyes open, you quickly focus your attention back down to the food that you’ve suddenly become full from. He says something that you have to ask him to repeat.

“Show me around?”

“O-oh. Yeah sure.” You stand fast, and clumsy, bowl taking its place next to his. You awkwardly adjust your shirt and wait for him to stand from the couch. He follows you down the short hallway.

“Here’s the bathroom,” you point to your right, and wait for him to kind of peek his head around for a moment, “And here’s my room.”

The movie on the tv is still paused, but it lights the room with a warm glow, along with the dim led lights strung up in the corners of the small space. A simple twin-sized bed in the middle, in between a matching bedside table and dresser. Raph steps into the room past you. It looks so cramped with his massive body in here. You can’t stop his eye catching the little collection of trinkets, lined up in a neat row, on top of the black dresser. His grin is small.

“Was wonderin if you kept all this shit,” He chuckles, picking up one of the little superhero action figures and admiring it. His whole hand engulfs the toy, which is covered in scuffs and scratch marks from years of play.

“Can’t see a reason why I wouldn’t.”

Raphael’s response is a relaxed smile when he looks over his shoulder at you. Your heart skips. He turns again and gently sets the figure in its place.

“This your family?”

He’s referring to the framed picture of you, Vern and your parents behind the line of his little gifts.

“Yeah. My mom and her husband.”

Raph lifts it and you walk over to look at it with him. It’s from a few years prior.

“Not your dad?”

You shake you head.

“Vern’s dad. But we’re close.”

The four of you are in mid laugh, in the selfie that you take with an outstretched arm. You remember taking it on a vacation in the mountains.

“Vern’s always got that stupid look on his face.”

You snicker, shaking your head.

“Yeah. Idiot.”

Once again, Raph places it in its exact spot. It makes your knees shake a little when he’s looking down at you, just centimeters away from your body. To ignore and prevent anymore weird and confusing tension to build, you flop backwards on your bed with a sigh.

“Whatcha bitchin about now?”

You smile up at the ceiling.

“Just don’t wanna go back to work.”

He sits on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah. Sounds boring.”

You nod, even though he’s not looking at you. You can feel the warmth of his leg bouncing next to yours.

“Whatcha thinking about, Red?”

“Nothin’ important.”

You tilt your head down just a little to see his massive shell facing you. He’s hunched over. You kick him lightly, and he knocks your leg away gently.

“Come onnn, talk to meeee.”

You go to kick him again, but Raph grabs your leg and tickles the back of it. You squeal.

“STOP,” the fight is useless, kicking and scrambling to get away, with an ornery grin on his face, “I’m gonna piss myself!”

With that he backs off, and you’re heaving through laughter.

“Mean.”

“Annoying.”

His smile is wiped away with another thought crossing.

“What time is it?” You both glance at the digital clock on the bedside table behind you.

“Shit. Almost five.”

“Yeah. I better get goin. Gettin’ late- or, I guess early.”

You follow him up to the front door, walking past Vannie who’s playing with that first cat toy he left on your window.

Raph reaches for the door handle, but stops.

“Thanks for lettin me in. And for the food.”

You smile softly.

“Anytime, Raph.”

You didn’t mean to stop so close to him, but here you are, smile slowly fading while you look up at his face. His eyes have got you in a strong hold, and he mirrors your expression, unintentionally. His nostrils flare with a breath outwards.

You want to kiss him, all of a sudden.

Kiss Raphael right on the mouth and not have a care about it.

But you don’t. He grins.

“Stay safe.”

“You too.”

The click of the closing door is your cue to slap your hands over your face in exasperation.

He’s left you with dirty dishes, an empty space, and flustered, red cheeks. You smile behind your hands hearing the scrape of Raphael heading back down into the sewers

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

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leviathanleva · 4 months ago

Text

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[5k words]

[Angst, Smut, MDNI]

Chapter 5 "Meringue Kisses"

Late that night, you’re skulking some distance from his door, hidden in the shadows and only occasionally the moon cruelly reveals your habitation.

A bottle of bourbon is nestled under your armpit, a peace offering after having left his heavy words hanging in the small infirmary room you’d been stationed in. Cruelty was something you’d been taught to bestow upon enemies but was forbidden towards comrades. Technically you were going against your orders by just walking away.

But wasn’t it also cruel to lie and let a dear one live an illusion?

He’d stayed by your bedside the entire time, you knew, you could smell him alongside the orchids he replaced every day. It could be viewed as either sweet or obsessive, but he’d been there for you and the least you could do was apologize for bailing on him.

But what was one supposed to say in such a situation?

“I’m sorry for ignoring your advances and walking out on you when you basically confessed your love?”

You weren’t trained for such a situation. You were a battering ram, not a love counselor. Yet out of everyone, Ghost sought you out for comfort, somehow found solace in your presence and the more he did the more that small guilty spark in your chest grew and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You trudge forward, abandoning your shadow-soaked post, and knock on his door before reason has a chance to pull you away.

Simon answers silently, you hear only his lazy heartbeat and then the lock click before he’s standing in front of you clad in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a tee far too tight for his bulk. Alcohol is pungent on his breath, it invades your nostrils even through his mask. Besides that, the bloodshot eyes that are barely open and the slumped shoulders tell you a sad story you doubt he wanted anyone to see.

A frown tries to form on your lips at the wreck he portrays, but you will it away. Instead, you blink up at him and thrust the bourbon bottle high in the air, practically in his face.

You’re facing away now, embarrassed by your stingy excuse for an apology, but you didn’t know what else to do. The Lieutenant didn’t have many hobbies you could add to. You couldn’t buy him a new book or a knitting set, a puzzle or…anything really.

He gingerly takes it from your hand, thick fingers wrapping around the base and making the one liter of poison and glass look like a small water bottle.

You take him in fully then – the callouses, one too many for a man of his age, the scars on his exposed arms, the little blond hairs that gleam in the moonlight because it’s so late that most lights at base are off, the bare feet and small strands of light brown that stick out from under his mask because he’d slipped it on in a hurry.

It was a cold night, colder than most, you noted the way his inked skin blossomed into goosebumps.

“I’m sorry.” You force the words out instead of contemplating them, take a step forward instead of turning away to leave.

That had been the initial plan, gift him the bourbon and leave. His mental instability wasn’t your duty to tend, plus you were technically under his command. He was supposed to take care of you, not the other way around.

But he looked pathetic past the usual stoicism. You’d risked your life for him, it would be a shame to have pulled him out of death’s way only for him to drink himself to unconsciousness because of a stupid unrequited crush. You were doing him a favor, just making sure he was alright, nothing more. As a good soldier, you had to show sympathy towards comrades.

So when he leaves the door open and retreats back into his quarters, you follow him with a small sigh.

“Don’ need to be sorry for nothen’.” You hear him rasp somewhere in front of you in a voice like sandpaper.

The room is musty, the air is stale, and the only reason it’s tidy is because he has almost no belongings. In a way, it reminds you of your own room. It’s sad, maybe you should have gifted him a small plant to keep him company on the long nights he spends cooped up in here and unable to sleep.

Maybe you shouldn’t be here at all…

“To hell with it” You think bitterly. Enough hesitation, this was unlike you.

No lights are on, and shadows cluster around the bench press and the wardrobe, which you’re sure barely holds any clothes aside from tactical gear. You understand his dislike for the light. It would put his misery on display and might welcome unwanted visitors. He didn’t want any company or for his woes to be visible.

You can relate, in a way you do the same. The light is too blinding, holds none of your secrets.

You wait for him to set the bottle down next to the half-empty one on his coffee table, then you speak.

“I want to see your face.” The words flow past your tongue like silk, it surprises both of you, how soft your tone had become, as if you were afraid of waking up someone, maybe your sense of wrongness, because this was in fact wrong to be here with him and ask for such things. “Then I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

It wasn’t a lie. You were willing to make a deal if only to make him happy.

Since Simon refused to simply order you to sleep with him, you’d found another way to grant his wishes with hopefully minimum guilt on his end.

You’d do as he asked despite how unprofessional it was. Fraternizing was frowned upon, especially between two soldiers of the same squad. You swallowed your sense of loyalty to your superiors, gave a big “fuck you” to the rules and orders.

It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was something you’d hastily strung together while on your way here. You’d debated whether you’d even bring it up because it might add more salt to the wound, but it was too late now.

Seeing him like this was…uncomfortable. You wouldn’t stand for it.

Ghost was the only one who showed you kindness, who believed there was still something human living somewhere in the depths of your mind. He deserved you, deserved the world.

And you believe in him, had faith that if you still beheld emotions, he’d find a way to dig them out and you’d let him keep them for himself.

And if nothing came out of this, then you’d at least tried. You were fine with both options, but he wasn’t and as long as he wasn’t satisfied you’d bend over backwards to find an alternative.

Anything for him…

“Love me for a night.” He says, pleads and steps closer to you, so close your breaths mingle. There are no warnings that what resides behind the mask isn’t pretty, there’s no pushback against your part of the bargain. He’s already laid himself bare before you, the mask had been pulled off a while ago.

“You know I c – ” You begin, but he cuts you off shortly.

“ – Then lie.”

He’s already pulling his balaclava off when you nod in silent agreement. Despite your compliance for once, he still looks exhausted, utterly drained to the bone.

You’d expected more excitement on his part, but this would do just fine.

You see the rugged features and battle scars, the light stubble and slightly crooked nose briefly before he’s kneeling in front of you. He presses his forehead against your belly, wraps his meaty arms around your thighs and pulls you close enough to bury his nose in your top and inhale deeply.

“Jus’ lie t’ me, ye?”

You rest your hands on his scalp while he breathes you in thoroughly, comb your fingers through his short hair, and tug gently to ease the headache he’s no doubt nursing. You pity him in a way, even though the choice to love you was his and he knew the consequences. Yet can one really control who their heart desires?

You wouldn’t know, your heart was chemically altered long ago.

So you indulge the desperate soul as best you can. Willing and yielding, you’ll let him feast on your flesh and drink from your blood until he was sated, no matter how long it would take. You’d endure this for him, for what hound didn’t want to please their master?

Your body was made of stone and toxins, cold and strong and deadly, but you believed in his ability to find a softness hidden there…somewhere.

“I love you.” You feel him coil around you like a python the moment those three little words leave your lips. And you continue to gently pet him, coax him to let go and shatter between your fingers, for once let himself feel, you wouldn’t stop him.

There’s a silence that follows, a crippling weight along with it that you won’t break as long as he didn’t voice that he wanted you to. You could stay like this all night if he needed it, he only had to ask

“You lyin’?”

“Yes.” You nod to the darkness, staring down at his light brown tuft of hair, playing with it gently before your fingers slip down to his ears, massaging them briefly, then slithering to his chin.

You raise it so he can look at you, offer him your best smile and the most vulnerability you can muster.

There’s so much pain in those whiskey-colored eyes, it’s a heartwrenching sight. He’s so torn between letting you go and getting what he wants because finally you chose to succumb. A battle rages behind his heavy eyelids, one he doesn’t let slip past the battle-scarred features. But you know him too well, you’ve delved past his mental barriers many times, and there’s not much he can hide from you.

You coo down at him and it’s scarily human, unbelievably believable.

“I love you.”

He stutters for a moment, and spurts out something you couldn’t quite make out. Contemplation weighs heavy on his face, makes his forehead litter with wrinkles, and his brows lower until they shadow over his eyes.

“Keep lyin’.” He murmurs and is on his feet in a second, picks you up like you weigh nothing before slowly carrying you to his bed.

You’re stuffed among the thin sheets and pillow before he crawls on top of you and lets his weight sink you further into the mattress. He’s heavy and warm and you feel your body melt beneath him as he nestles comfortably on top of you.

The smell of tobacco and his cologne surround you along with that distinct aroma of sleep, it all makes you relax, taut muscles turning to jelly. You barely find the energy to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down. His stubble attacks your face, grazes cheeks and chin alike as his alcohol-dried lips press against yours in an uncertain kiss.

He hesitates still despite your willingness, almost acts shy in his gentle, feather-like pecks over your still mouth. You lock your lips together, try to encourage him as you nibble at his bottom lip.

Eagerness slowly burns away whatever doubts he has and he’s on you like a man starved, licking and sucking, dominating your mouth as the bitter flavor of bourbon stings your taste buds.

A rumble comes from deep in his throat as his eyes squeeze shut and his rough hands slip beneath your flimsy top to study the flesh beneath. You shudder under his touch and are quick to roll the both of you over, breaking the kiss in the process.

It’s not about you tonight, you can’t be slouching around and being pleased when your master was the one in dire need.

Good hounds always please.

You bunch up his tee until it’s gathered around his neck, toss it off as soon as he lifts his heavy head. It’s somewhere on the floor, discarded while you’re on a mission to tend to every inch of him you can reach. Lips latch onto his neck, sharp canines teasing the skin as your tongue runs laps over his pulse and pulls the most satisfying, meager grunts you’ve heard anyone emit.

Your eyes glint in the darkness, menacing, the orbs of a predator, and Simon has a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him to run. You’ll eat him alive, you’re not human, for once he’s the prey. But he can’t will himself to move an inch, instead he lets his hands slot on your hips and pulls you closer as you lather his skin in lovebites.

He was willing to be just another meal for you if only he gets to touch you for as long as he’s conscious. Devour him if you so wish, he’ll go down a satisfied man.

“Thas’ it, pretty girl.” He manages to rasp out between pants. “Mark me all ova’.”

You don’t disappoint, moving from his neck down to his chest, your tongue never drying because you’re salivating at the mere sight of him bared and broken under your weight. You pepper his abdomen in kisses, nuzzle the tip of your nose against the fuzzy trail starting from his belly button and disappearing under his waistband. His stomach sinks with a shuddering breath as you glide your palm over his hardened cock, noting how it’s straining against his sweatpants already and wanting nothing more than to be set free.

Your eyes dart up to see a disheveled man biting back moans the more you massage him through the thick fabric.

“Can I?” You ask, but you’re already tugging his pants down to reveal a leaking tip begging for attention.

“Jesus fuck – ” Simon barely manages to gasp as your tongue greedily licks up the sticky precum running down his shaft. His hand is in your hair, blunt nails digging into your scalp and a purr blossoms inside your chest and transfers straight to his groin.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like, Lieu – ”

“ – Simon.” He manages to choke out before you finish, and for a moment you're frozen.

Your head rises, tilts slightly like that of a confused pup before you’re slowly and delicately crawling over him.

“Simon.” You hum softly and press a single, sugary kiss to his lips before you descend again. “My Simon.”

And he wants to cry because you’re hammering nails into his heart.

A good liar, liar, liar. Liar!

That’s all you are. A bloody good liar. He needs to remind himself, chant that sentence like a mantra as you tenderly trace your mouth over his cock before lathering it in saliva and letting it sink down to your throat.

His toes are curling as you suckle on him with scary precision, with a masqueraded need that feels so real he keeps forgetting you’re only doing this because he wanted you to.

He watches with batting lashes and lazy blinks as his girthy length disappears in your pretty mouth, lips wrapped perfectly around him, like you were made to be drooling over him.

And maybe you had been before the changes. Maybe you were his soulmate, but he’d been too late to find you.

He’s mesmerized by the twinkling canines that are so close to the pulsing veins on his shaft, yet you don’t let them cause any damage. You’re caring and careful and devoted to him completely. He likes the danger, the risk, your tenderness despite your nature. It makes him feel special in a way.

You chose him as a master, you’d rebelled for him, risked your life for him. It was slowly pumping through his blood, the fact that you were ready to do anything for him.

When you take him down to the hilt and cup his balls he nearly doubles over.

“Bloody h-hell, woman.”

You pause and look up at him with a spark of anxiety to your usually solemn features.

“Bad?”

He snorts at the question and pats your head reassuringly before picking at a stray strand of hair and twirling it around his finger. A tiny leash, even now, to guide his dog in the right direction.

“No.” He mouths and lets his head fall back against the pillow. “ ‘s good. Keep goin’.”

You’re spreading his thick, scarred thighs farther apart, nestling comfortably on your belly before you start to ease him back into your mouth, throat relaxed, taking all of him in.

“Good girl…” He breathes out and lets his eyes flutter closed.

Fuck everything. If he had only one night where you were willing, he’d fight off all his taunting thoughts until morning.

A small moan, so tiny he might have missed it if he wasn’t so enthralled by you, echoed in your throat and caused his whole body to shudder. His grunts stop, the praises also and the gentle head patting falters.

His eyes crack open and he glances down at you.

“Do tha’ again, luv.”

You moan again on command, louder, more prominent this time. It reverberates down his cock and he nearly cums on then and there.

A sweet symphony gifted only to him, honeyed noises that are meant for him alone to hear because you’ve been his from the very beginning. Precious little thing you are, all powdered sugar and poison ivy. He’d rather die to your venom than live a day without you by his side.

And the worst part is that you know all this, but you’re a good hound, you don’t take it for granted. You’re grateful for anything he gives you.

Just having him is enough for you.

Mewling sounds rain down on him, salving over every thought, every scar, he drowns in them, letting them linger in his ears as you work your tongue over his tip and swallow every drop of precum that oozes out. His free hand is clutching the sheets so tight the threads are straining not to rip under the pressure. His bottom lip is imprisoned between his teeth, bruised at how harshly he bites down on it to keep quiet.

Simon doesn’t realize he’s bucking his hips up in tune with your mouth and writhing beneath your steady hold until you release his cock from your bittersweet torture and settle on his thighs like a woman victorious.

“You’re ready.” You mumble more to yourself than him and he watches as you toss your top somewhere on the hardwood floor. Your sports bra follows after and you’re bare before him, breasts exposed and nipples hardening from the low temperature.

You’re quick to discard your bottom as well and are about to mount him before he grips your waist and still you, the tip of his shaft brushing against your entrance, pulsating with need and swollen red.

You give him a quizzical look and his brows furrow.

“But you ain’t.” Simon grunts. “This ain’t just about me, luv. Not gonna use you like tha’.”

You shake your head at him in disapproval and try to take him in your dry heat, but he won’t budge.

“I don’t need to be.” You protest.

His skin crawls at the thought and he’s quick to roll you onto your back and cage you between his large upper arms.

“Want you to enjoy this too.” He says with so much softness it makes you whimper and cling to him as if the mattress will swallow you whole. He brushes his nose against yours and steals a brief kiss. “You make me feel good. I make you feel good, ye? Want this to be mutual. As much as possible.”

When he tries to slide down to your core, you clutch at his hair and stutter out excuses. Panic twinkles in your eyes that aren’t the emotionless wholes that bore into his soul just a few hours ago. There’s more to them now, a kind of uncertainty he’s not seen before and to which he’ll cling like a drowning man to a straw.

“Trust me.” He soothes and continues down, kissing along your breasts and brushing his lips over your tummy. He spreads you open and comes to face your neglected sex, then glances up at you one last time. “If you don’ like it, I’ll stop.”

He’s not gentle in his mission to please you. It’s all greedy slurps and teeth and a relentless tongue that drags over your clit. Everything he does is a desperate attempt at awakening a spark in you and the more he pushes the faster a knot surfaces somewhere deep in your belly. His fingers slip past your folds and stretch your tightness, reminding you that you can still feel pleasure. He pumps them inside you lazily, first one, then two and once you’re dripping down his palm, he adds a third and has you wailing.

Your trembling thighs come to squeeze either side of his head to muffle his hearing because your moans aren’t imitations anymore. He’s starved for the noises spilling from your lips, languid sighs of his name and whispered pleas to keep going. Torn between feeling your strong thighs cutting the blood flow from his ears and humming along to your meager whines, beckoning you to produce more and feed his bottomless hunger.

“Let go f’ me, pretty girl.” He rumbles, words slurred by the evergrowing slickness he’s smearing over his stubble. “Tha’s it.”

You’re trying desperately to wiggle away from him, the heat in your cunt is unbearable, pulsing and aching and it’s been so long that you don’t remember what follows next.

But his grip on you is iron and you’ve not the strength to detach him from his pursuit.

You come undone beneath him, shatter in his hands, scratching at his back and shoulders viciously as his name flows past your lips in a chant, accompanied by a slew of moans and curses. There’s beads of tears gathering at the corners of your eyes and threatening to spill.

He emerges to kiss them away, terrified that if he voiced their existence everything would be over, the spell would break. Instead, he coos down at you as you tremble in his arms and whimper incoherences up at him. He’s gentle now despite the ache between his legs, lowers himself down on you and squishes you to shush your pleas of confusion. He’ll be your safety blanked, a weighted, warm, rugged blanket that will always be there at your disposal, you only need seek it out.

He feels your cunt pulsing and drenched when he presses the tip of cock to it, grinds against it to coat himself in slickness.

Despite your spent state, you’re still willing to please, wrap your legs around his thick waist faithfully and push down on his lower back with the heels of your feet. He eases into you with care, gazing at you watchfully for any signs of discomfort even though he knows you’d rather die than sacrifice his pleasure for a bit of pain.

Your breaths come out shaky as you adjust your hips and spread your thighs wider, trying to accommodate to his bulk.

“Bloody fuckin’ Christ…” Your name follows along with a handful of unsavory words as he patiently fills you, shallow thrusts and clenched teeth as he holds himself back. “So tight f’ me. Perfect f’ me, luv. Fuckin’ heavenly…”

He’d prepped you thoroughly, both with tongue and fingers, and it was still a snug fit. You wrapped around him like a sleeve, choked his cock with your hot, mushy walls that sucked him in greedily every time he tried to pull out a bit.

“Greedy li’le cunt you got.”

“Your cunt, Simon.” You manage to choke out in between heavy breaths and meek whimpers. But your patience runs thin, you want to be ravaged and he’s taking too long, so you thrust your hips up and take what part of him still wasn’t swallowed in sinful tightness. “Don’t spare me. I’m no virgin.”

His tip smushes against your squishy cervix and your eyes roll back as he snarls like a beast and becomes taut.

“Fuck!” He hisses and rolls his hips once, twice, bruising your soft insides with his girth as your wetness squirts out and covers his inner thighs, slicking the curly hairs there because there’s just no more fucking room inside you.

He goes for your neck and settles for a steady pace, barely managing to move his cock with how desperately your core sucks him back in. His teeth sink in your tender flesh, leaving marks and then soothing them with apologetic flicks of his tongue.

Your nails are drawing pictures of red on his back and you’re begging him to be rougher, to give you more, all of him. Then you stop because he’s scarred enough as is. You flatten your palms over his mass instead, trace his spine delicately, and move in toon with him, letting him bury himself to the hilt, until his pelvis presses against yours.

He’s panting in your hair, there’s already a thin sheen of sweat coating his body and making him glow in the moonlight like a battered, fallen angel.

You kiss along his shoulder, run your hands wherever you can reach, wandering over his body and memorizing everything in your path.

Loving promises slip past your kiss-bruised lips as his pace quickens and you’re being forced farther into the bed with every hurried thrust.

He’s groping you with bruising need, practically crushes you beneath him until only your feet are exposed to the cold. The room fills with the sound of your sloshy sex, your pleas and his grunts, sloppy open-mouthed kisses, and a creaking bed that’s barely supporting both of your weights. Your ears feel hot and your heart thrums with every breathless call of your name that escapes him in between bites.

Knots are coiling in your belly again and you’re calling out to him without a second thought. It feels natural, instinctual.

“Simon, please, love…”

His pace becomes brutal, he’s all fangs and guttural growls as he forces himself inside you, too lost in his pleasure to care anymore. Because your little pussy is heaven to him, wants him so desperately, pulls at him with need, takes him all in even though he’s too big for you.

“Good girl. So good…My good girl. Pretty girl. Fuck!”

Your back is already arching before his mindless praises start. You scream, vocal cords straining and he clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle your ecstasy as you convulse beneath him in pure bliss. You clutch at his arms so tightly there are bruises forming under your fingertips but neither of you cares.

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl…Don’ want anyone hearin’ those sounds but me, ye?”

You’re clamping down on him at that, a pool of slickness leaking from your core, down your ass, and pooling over the sheets. But your pleasure is short-lived when you feel him start to pull out, fully intending to finish himself off by hand.

You snarl up at him and your legs turn to stone around him, forcing him back inside. His head tilts up at you, desperation in his wide eyes because he can’t quite comprehend that you’re giving him such freedom.

“No.” You command and he would have protested but he’s so close that he whines at you instead. His movements become slopping, his fingers digging into your flesh and making it bulge. “Fill me, fill me, fill me…”

“Fuck..Fuck..Fuck!”

Lightning surges up his spine, makes him arch briefly before he’s curling over you, nearly suffocating you beneath his bulk. His grunts culminate in a raspy moan as his cock twitches inside you, coating your pretty pink insides with spurts of hot sticky cum. Your name zips past his teeth, lingers in the air until the next chant. His balls tighten against your ass as they empty themselves inside your waiting womb.

He fills you to the brim, trembles in your arms, collapses with a huff and his pants collide with the side of your neck as he struggles to catch his breath. Only slips his cock out when it softens and lets his cum ooze onto his bedsheets, uncaring for the mess.

“You okay?”

You glance up at him through heavy eyelids and nod before curling into him willingly. His breath hitches at your unexpected gesture.

He’d thought you’d simply get up, dress and leave, job done. Instead, you wrap a leg around his waist and snuggle up, selfishly stealing his warmth and letting your eyes close. Your arms are tucked between your bodies, fingers spaced out and pressed against his skin, nose buried into his collarbone and inhaling deeply.

Wordlessly, he tugs the covers over your bodies, gets comfortable and slips an arm under your head.

How long until the spell fades? When is the end of your lies?

He doesn’t want the answers, but for the sake of his sanity, he needs them, and too afraid to ask, he lies there silently, eyes wide open and staring at the top of your head as you drift off to sleep against him like this was your usual ritual, like you did this every night.

“I love you.”

It pierces the darkness, strikes right into his chest and he swallows a lump that threatens to choke him.

“Are you lyin’?”

He needs to know, needs to harden himself because it’ll be all over soon. If you were planning on prolonging your torture over him, he wanted it to end. He’d had his fill, this was enough, you were free. You could just leave.

Simon felt guilty enough as is, without you bestowing more on him, he didn’t deserve all this. He didn’t need more pity –

“ – No.”

<<< Chapter 4

Masterlist

#x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod smut #smut #mw2 fanfic #cod fanfic #simon riley smut

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sanemisstalker · 2 years ago

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NSFW // KNY characters that are serial humpers. There's nothing they won't rub themselves on for just a small chance to get off.

CW: GN Reader/ Both Genitals reffered to/ specific CW will be before each character so you can peruse as you see fit.

Karaku

Object Of choice : Anything and Everything.

CW: Genital Mutilation (he gets curious, no scene), Dub-con/Non-con, Somnophilia.

-While I think all of the Clones have a bit of a problem keeping it to themselves, I think Karaku, being, you know, the pleasure clone, is most certainly a cum chaser.

-He can barely keep his hand out of his pants in public, all but physically refuses to hide his boners, and, worst of all, you can't keep underwear in one piece, on, or even around.

-This man is disgusting. The only difference between him and the others is that he's unabashed about it. You'd think the honesty would help, but it just doesn't. Not after he's torn through your last set of undergarments and now what?

-'So what? I don't wear anything- eh? What do you mean it's digusting?!'

-He's so proud about it too, it's almost disheartening.

-Is not gentle with his dick. It can just regrow, I'm sure he's done- awful things to it.

-I think that pleasure thing comes at a cost. It's a signifier of Hantengu's lack of impulse control. Karaku probably can't stop himself, even if he wants to, which he never would because lusting is his only purpose.

-Everything is made to read as innately sexual to him- doesn't matter if it's your fist or a cheese grater- He's experimental with his nerves to a self destructive degree.

-'I didn't intend to cut it off- no! I saw a photo of a man that flayed it o- Hey! It's not that bad! Just liste- It'll fix itself soon!'

-I don't know what else He'd do other than jack off, or try and convince the other clones to jack off. I don't think he has- hobbies?

-Definitely tries to hump you in your sleep. If you don't wake up to him jerking off, you're waking up to him trying to slip between your thighs.

-'I just got horny- no no- just go back t- hey, no, you're not allowed to leave? Come back! Y/N!'

Aizetsu

Object of Choice : Your thigh

CW: Severe Depression / BDSM Dynamics (Severe degradation, both self and inflicted) (Aizetsu receiving)

-What a miserable fuck, he doesn't know what to do with himself half the time, so when he gets horny he just cries and begs.

-He's a manifestation of every awful thought Hantengu ever had in that big ol' head of his. Aizetsu just drips with the most gut wrenching, vomit inducing level of self-hatred you've ever seen anytime you're intimate.

-you begin to wonder if being talked down to appeals to him more than he'd like to admit.

-He's like a dog when he asks, because, at the end of the day, he's still Hantengu, a selfish bastard who self serves. Aizetsu just doesn't have the joy receptors for it- his nerves jump at the bud for any impulse they can fufill.

-When you let him ride your thigh, because he's pathetic, and he looked so... him asking, it became his favourite thing. Ever.

-When you two are alone, he'll just beg for it out loud. He has no self respect. So much shame that he'll never conquer.

-'Please, please- Y/N- I- I'll do whatever you want me to. You're the only person I can do this with, they'll all- laugh at me- please please- I'm sorry, I know, I'm- God I'm worthless- I can't do anything in return, nothing will be good enough-'

-he's practically jerking himself off on your calve as he spews his self hate. You might as well give in.

-When you're infront of the other clones, he'll tug at the edge of whatever you're wearing. They all toss him hauty looks. They're disgusted by him, too. He likes humping your thigh more than his dignity infront of his fellow cluster, I guess.

-Maybe he's... a bit of a.... a lot of a masochist. You stare at him like he's dirt, there. He's a grown man humping your thigh- drool spilling out of his mouth.

-'I'm- I'm sorry I- oh god- please don't hate me- please don't hate me- please please-'

-'You're pathetic. You can't make me cum, but you have no problem mak- did you just cum again? Are you cumming right now? In your pants?... Are you serious?'

-You could easily have him wailing in minutes, maybe even seconds if you hit the right nerve. And the whole time he'll just be thrusting away, chasing his own pleasure against your skin because that's all he knows how to do.

-Push him off right as he's cumming and ruin his orgasm, he doesn't deserve to feel good (The abuse will just make him cum harder)

Kaigaku

Object Of Choice: You.

CW: Mention of Trad Wives

-Listen, I know we have a lot of Kaigaku haters in the crowd. I, however, see a man with a choker, and I see a potential slut. Give him his moment.

-I think Kaigaku would be a very selfish lover, obviously, but I don't think this is in natural capacity for him. I think he's like, brainwashed by societies standards of what attracts him, especially in a relationship.

-You know when you see a 'sigma' guy that's really upset his trad wife who he specifically picked out for being trad won't do anal? That's Kaigaku.

-So he's really, really upset when you won't put out.

-You see a chance, though. A chance for a life lesson.

-Kaigaku is allowed to fuck you... just not really fuck you. He's allowed to use your hand. He's allowed to use your thighs. He can rut in between your pussy lips/ up and down your shaft-

-He is not allowed in you. And it lights him up.

-'Thats a stupid rule! You think I'm not enough? Are you fucking someone else? Are you making fun of me?!' He'd probably try to insight a screaming match for a week, but you just won't give in-

-Fine. Whatever. He just won't touch you, won't talk to you- won't-

-The first time Kaigaku slides in between your thighs, he swears he sees stars. It'd been weeks... probably the longest he's ever held off on an impulse. Hadn't jerked off either, He'd been too pissed.

-Its there, in that little space between your sex and the top of your thighs, that Kaigaku finds God. At least he thinks it's god. It's got to be. He's never cum so hard in his life.

-Kaigaku becomes almost... willingly obedient. He continues to pretend he's so inconvenienced by the whole thing, but then he's sliding into your fist, and the world is just sliding away.

-I have a very specific image of standing infront of him, and him trying to angle his dick to slide in your underwear. He's really awkward, and he's struggling to stay upright because he's got to bend his knees to meet your cunt/cock- and it's just not working, but that's the only way you'd let him get off on you that day-

-It like, kind of gives me the ick thinking about him doing it, but also like- Aw? He'll literally do anything to get off now? You broke him?

-'I can't- it- it's too hard-' He'd mumble, voice sounding particularly defeated. 'I just- I want to cum-'

-'Too bad.' You'd go to walk away, and He'd jerk off on the floor, pissed as hell. He wouldn't be able to cum and that'd just make him angrier, because now he has to go beg his partner, who he's whipped for, to please let him use their pussy/dick again-

-He's like, never been this needy before, though. He's not supposed to want to chase you. He's supposed to have people throwing themselves at him- It's kind of... exciting, to be denied.

-You know, guys that whimper are really cool, but idk, I think Kaigaku's a whiner. I think he whines and groans and it's really unsightly but??? There's something so appealing about it? Like, he's so big and strong and his ego is so inflated, and he's just toppling for you?

Enmu

Object of Choice : Your pillow

CW: Enmu / Crossing of explicit sexual boundaries.

-Listen, he's not right in the head. Enmu never claimed to be right in the head, either, but he's particularly fond of cumming on your pillow. Not just humping it, cumming on it. He doesn't really know why either.

-'It just feels right, I think.' He'd reason.

-'Do you want to- cum in my hair? On my face-'

'No, I want to cum on your pillow. It's where you sleep.' Thats the only explanation you get from him. He cannot articulate anymore.

-He doesn't even think about it when he's doing it. He's just got one leg hiked up on the bed, a thumb pressing the head of his cock into the plush, and he's just thrusting- almost blind.

-He doesn't ever remember the build up to getting there, or what in his brain is satisfied by doing this, but if he doesn't do it, something... off will happen, he's sure.

-You catch him, one day. You thought he was just cumming on it- no, he's got his full weight in his pelvis, pitching his hips forward with all his might. You didn't even know Enmu could physically do such a thing.

-He's not weak, obviously. He's a demon, but you all rarely have sex where he's the one leading, so it's a bit of a shock to watch him be so... rough with the fabric.

-He's almost in a trance, it's kind of scary, until he cums, and he covers his mouth with both hands, and his hole body shakes. The fucker knows he has to keep this silent...

-Maybe you're...Maybe you're not right in the head either, because you really, really want to be that pillow.

This might have a part 2, because i think Mitsuri would be prone to this.

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letmesniffurdaddysfeet · 1 year ago

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Weekend Lessons with daddy John PART 1

John, my mysterious neighbor, was a man shrouded in age and secrets. Though I never dared to inquire about his past, I estimated him to be around 65 years old. From the moment I moved in next door, he welcomed me with open arms and a warm smile. Despite our significant age difference - I was only 21 at the time - I found myself eagerly seeking out his company. John was a skilled handyman, passing on his knowledge of electricity, plumbing, and DIY projects to me with infinite patience. It may seem odd for a young adult like myself, but each week I looked forward more to spending an evening with John than going out for after-work drinks with my colleagues.

There was something about John that fascinated me - he wasn't particularly muscular or physically imposing, but there was a ruggedness to him that exuded masculinity. He embodied the classic image of a man's man - simple yet capable, full of practical knowledge that I had never learned before. But what captivated me most were his feet. Every Friday night, as we sat together watching a replay of a baseball game and sipping on cold beers, John would kick off his slippers and rest his large, mature feet on the coffee table in front of us.

It started innocently enough - just admiring the feet of a strong, masculine man. But as the weeks went by, my fascination turned into something else entirely. With each passing Friday night, it became harder and harder for me to resist the forbidden desires stirring inside of me. I tried to push them away, telling myself that it was wrong and dirty to feel this way towards someone much older than me.

But one fateful night, as I lay in bed alone with my thoughts, I gave in to my sinful desires and indulged in a forbidden act of self-pleasure while thinking about John's feet. The pleasure that consumed me was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, a heady mix of taboo and desire that left me both intoxicated and guilty.

From that night on, John's feet became an obsession for me. I couldn't resist stealing glances at them whenever we were together, imagining the feel of them against my lips and tongue. And each time I succumbed to these thoughts, the intensity of pleasure only grew stronger, driving me towards a dangerous edge that I could not escape from.

Despite my attempts to distance myself from these thoughts, they consumed me. I tried to distract myself with work, hobbies, and even dating other people, but nothing seemed to quell the burning desire I had for John's feet.

But one evening, I couldn't resist my insatiable desire… As we sat on the sofa, John's relaxed form radiating a familiar comfort, I chugged back another beer to calm my racing heart. Suddenly, his shoes were off and his toes were wriggling in front of me as he talked about the game. I couldn't help but feign interest in a coin that supposedly fell on the other side of the table. My hand brushed against his foot and I knelt down, pretending to search for the nonexistent coin in the thick carpet fibers as my face stealthily drew closer to his feet. The overpowering scent of masculinity hit me like a wave and my body reacted immediately, my pants stretching with the growing hardness between my legs. Every touch from his toes sent shivers through my body, pushing me deeper into a forbidden pleasure that consumed me completely.

My mind raced with a torrent of emotions and desires as I lingered there, my breath hot against John's coarse, calloused skin. I had never felt anything like this before - a mixture of exhilaration, shame, and unbridled lust coursing through my veins. I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn't help myself.

A surge of shame and self-loathing washes over me as I realize the gravity of my actions. I pray that my arousal is not too obvious , ready to feign ignorance and confess to not finding the coin. But when I meet John's gaze, a new expression crosses his face - an excited smile, his hand resting on his visibly erect penis. Did he understand the true intention behind my gesture? And did the sight of my face so close to his feet elicit the same response in him as it did in me? My mind spins with confusion and desire, rendering me speechless and creating a tense silence that begs to be broken… I struggle to find the right words, while secretly yearning to ask him if he desires to see me throw myself at his feet as well…

It was finally John who broke the silence, saying these words: ''Are you sure you looked carefully? It would be a shame not to reject a glance." He looked me straight in the eyes, without leaving his mischievous smile, wiggling his toes… my eyes rested on those feet and the spark of excitement in the John's eyes twinkled brighter. It was at that moment that I realized that this was a formal invitation, and I was not going to wait another second to respond.

John's voice cut through the tense silence like a knife, his words dripping with challenge and mischievous thrill ''Did you even bother to look closely? Don't tell me you missed it." His gaze locked onto mine, a sly grin playing on his lips as he wiggled his toes in anticipation…my eyes couldn't help but trail down to those feet, and I saw the unmistakable glimmer of mischief in John's eyes. It hit me like a bolt of lightning - this wasn't just an invitation, it was a dare. And I refused to waste another second before responding, the fire of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

#daddyfeet #malefeet #gayfeet

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pneumaticshift · 1 month ago

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I just read the latest chapter of BLP!! SO GOOD. Hal’s quiet resignation is such a mood haha. He’s in it for the long haul, unfortunately. It also made me think of a prompt if you’re interested.

What if established batlantern featured a Hal that was a master guilt tripper? I feel like the bats are so emotionally repressed that open emotion or, dare I say, even open crying from Hal would immediately give him an upper hand against most of them.

Now who could fuck up enough in the family that the normally chill Hal would use this power for evil? Who’s to say haha.

Love your stuff! Hope you’re having a good day :)

Ahh, thank you so much!! Really glad you're enjoying it.

I had a lot of fun with your prompt. I feel like Hal's not much of a dick to be emotionally manipulative for big serious things, but he'd definitely use it to be the petty little shit he was always destined to be. I hope you like it 💚💚🦇

———

Jason liked to limit his time in the manor, mostly because he didn’t want Bruce to get the wrong idea. The last thing he needed was the old man to think he was on the verge of some grand, heartfelt return to the family. He certainly wasn’t planning on moving back in or, god forbid, partaking in some kind of formal reinstatement into the fold.

No, obviously Jason wasn’t here out of any sense of comfort. It was all strictly practical. Maybe his safehouse had a busted boiler. Maybe his internet was out. Maybe Gotham was just particularly miserable tonight and he still hadn’t fixed the window in his apartment.

Then again, there was something about the quiet hum of the Batcomputer that made his shoulders loosen just a fraction. Not that he’d ever acknowledge it, out loud or otherwise. He leaned back in his chair, boots propped up on the console just to annoy Bruce in absentia. Jason planned to be gone way before the old man came back from whatever corner he was brooding in, but Jason liked to believe he’d feel a vague sense of irritation by proxy.

He wasn’t staying, obviously. He’d just come to borrow some gear. A few upgrades, maybe a couple of batarangs. Not because he needed them, but because stealing from Bruce had always been a real satisfying hobby. Sure, he might have taken a detour to the library to swipe a few of Bruce’s first editions, too. One of them had even been bookmarked, which made it infinitely more enjoyable to take.

Now he was sprawled out in front of the Batcomputer, making a dent in some leftover sesame chicken straight from the container. He didn’t know who’s it was, but Batfamily law decreed that if it had been in the fridge for more than a day, then it was fair game.

Jason had been in the middle of watching a blurry video compilation of Cursed Gotham Sightings — which included at least three separate clips of himself when he was still running about in his more homicidal phase, and one video of Bruce eating shit after his grapple broke — when the Batcave’s security gave a low, lazy chime. That meant someone with clearance had entered. Which, in turn, meant that Jason didn’t have to shoot them. A shame, really.

He barely had enough time to decide on his excuse for being there when Hal Jordan floated in like he belonged.

And, okay, technically he did these days, and that was something Jason was still struggling to wrap his head around. Hal had been dating Bruce for a while now, long enough that Jason stopped expecting it to be some elaborate prank or an undercover operation that Bruce had neglected to inform the family about.

Somehow, against all logic, rhyme or reason, the Green Lantern actually wanted to spend time with Bruce. Voluntarily. Without, like, an ulterior motive. And Jason had yet to determine if that meant Hal had some kind of latent head injury or if he just really enjoyed the suffering that came with a man who’d rather break a bone than express any kind of positive emotion.

Hal took one look at Jason, then at the takeout box in his hand. "Is that my sesame chicken?”

Jason paused mid-bite and very deliberately glanced down at the takeout box. There was a smudge of sauce on the lid, a logo he hadn’t bothered to look at before, and something suspiciously close to Hal’s name scrawled on the side in what was probably Alfred’s neat handwriting.

He looked back up at Hal. “...Dunno. Might be.” And then, because committing to the bit was a family trait, he popped the chicken in his mouth and chewed nonchalantly.

Green Lantern was well known for deliberately being a dick when the situation called for it, so Jason had been expecting some pushback. He’d seen the guy bicker with Bruce enough times that it was fairly reasonable to assume Hal would at least attempt some petty retribution. At the very least some half-assed back-and-forth that would pass the time before Jason inevitably got bored and left.

He really, really didn’t expect for Hal’s entire body to slump mid-air. Hal just, like…deflated. His shoulders hunched, his mouth opened a little like he didn’t know how to continue, and his mask fizzled away so Jason could see the very specific kind of disappointment that would’ve been more apt on a kid that just got its favourite toy taken away. Hal blinked and his feet drifted down to the ground with all the enthusiasm of a man being lowered into his own grave.

“Oh,” Hal whispered, his voice so alarmingly soft. “Oh, okay.”

Jason panicked. This wasn’t in the script. This wasn’t how arguments were supposed to go. He could handle a petty quarrel or a physical altercation, but this… this was new, and Jason really didn’t like where this was going.

And Hal just stood there. He wasn’t exactly a short guy, but he suddenly looked so small. He was radiating wounded sorrow and his eyes — god, his eyes. They looked moist. Not quite full-on tears, but the kind of damp, glossy sheets that made it very clear that Hal could cry if he wanted to.

Jason felt a cold sweat start to form. He couldn’t handle tears.

“Uh…” he started, shifting uncomfortably. “Are you—”

“No, no.” Hal waved him off, his voice too steady. Like he was holding something back. “I get it. It’s fine. I just…”

“Dude. It’s just chicken…”

“Was chicken,” Hal corrected tiredly, looking deeply, viscerally wounded. “Was mine. And now it’s—-” He cut himself off and inhaled sharply like even saying it was too much. His head shook slightly, eyes fluttering shut like he was physically stopping himself from falling apart right then and there. Jason had seen people die with less drama. “It’s gone,” Hal finally whispered.

“...I don’t—”

Hal let out another long, shuddering sigh and he tilted his head back to gaze up at the ceiling. “I thought you were different,” he continued, almost to himself. “I believed in you.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Serious?” Hal let out a humourless laugh and he looked back at Jason, eyes filled with pain. Jesus Christ, was he being legitimate right now? Jason felt something foreign and incredibly uncomfortable curl in his chest. Guilt. Actual guilt. Over takeout. This was not his natural state of being. “Jason, I dreamed about that chicken.”

“Oh my God—” “I held on,” Hal continued, placing a fist dramatically over his chest. “Through asteroid fields. Through alien war zones. Through deep, endless space.” He inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering shut again. “And I told myself, ‘One more day. One more patrol. And when I get back home, when I finally, finally touch down, it’ll be waiting for me. Warm. Safe. Loved.’” His voice cracked on that last word. “You’re messing with me, right? You’re not actually…upset about this, right?”

Hal made a wounded noise. “I trusted you man,” he murmured, just loud enough for Jason to hear. And those were exactly the words that always made him crumble, because trust was such a beautiful, sad commodity in his life. Hal proceeded to make it even worse by slamming the final nail in the coffin. “I thought we were family.”

And god-fucking-damnit, that was what broke him.

Jason clenched his hands into fists around his chopsticks. This was a setup. He knew this was a setup. Hal Jordan simply didn’t break down over something a stupid as food. He didn’t break down, period. The guy had dealt with way too much shit in his life to let takeout dictate his emotional state.

But Hal looked so goddamn broken. He just stood there with his chest barely rising with each soul-crushing sigh, and his big hazel eyes were dim and devastated. He looked like Jason had personally ripped his heart out and stomped on it. And that was dangerous.

Because Jason was used to the cold. He was used to the sharp blue eyes of his family and the way their gaze straight up cut. His dad — uh, Bruce (goddamnit) and his brothers had disappointment that was quiet and knife-like, slicing just deep enough to leave a scar. He knew how to brace against that, knew how to fight against it.

Hal wasn’t cut from the same cloth as the family, though. Hal didn’t cut. He ached. His disappointment was soft, open, an exposed wound bleeding out realtime, and Jason didn’t know how to deal with that.

“It’s just takeout, man,” he tried weakly in one last ditch attempt at retaining some kind of control of the situation.

“You don’t get it,” Hal murmured, shaking his head. His voice was quiet. Too quiet.

And Jason was apparently a weak fucking man, because he hissed an impassioned “Fuck you,” under his breath, and shoved himself away from the Batcomputer so violently that the chair nearly toppled over. He stormed out of the room before he could let Hal see just how much he’d won.

Exactly twenty-seven minutes later, he came back. He shoved a fresh box of sesame chicken onto the console, slamming it down with force. If he was doing this, he was gonna do it petulantly.

“There,” Jason growled. “Happy now?”

Hal, now lounging on the chair and watching the compilation videos Jason had left open on the Batcomputer, didn’t even flinch. He just blinked at the box, tilted his head a little, and then — then, like he hadn’t just emotionally manipulated Jason into doing his dark bidding, grinned brightly.

“Oh, sweet, thanks, buddy,” he said casually, already opening the lid and digging around for the chopsticks.

Jason stared at him. He just...stared. Mute, disbelieving, a little put in his place.

When did he become so easy to manipulate? How in the hell had he let this happen? More importantly, why — why, why?? — was a small, twisted part of him actually impressed by the gall of this bastard. Jason kind of wanted to fight him.

Hal, chuckling at a grainy video of Batman falling out of a window, barely even acknowledged his crisis. He just hummed happily around a mouthful of chicken, clicked through another video on the Batcomputer, and without looking up, said, “So, you staying for dinner or not?”

Jason opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Sighed deeply. And, so completely resigned, he muttered, “Yeah, fine. Whatever.”

#i should write more for jason #he's one of my faves #sam writes #batlantern #batfamily #hal jordan #jason todd #request #answered

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itsnathateasy · 5 months ago

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aot characters reacting to “i read about us in tarot”

warnings: none word count: 3,1k includes: armin, jean, connie, hange, mikasa, erwin a/n: sometimes, all you need is a confirmation from the universe, right?

“Pass me the sugar, please?” Armin asked in his polite tone. This was your third date with him and your bond and chemistry kept getting better and better. “Here you go! So, what were you saying about that new theatre show?” you questioned as you handed him the sugar bowl. He added two table spoons of sugar in his tea, stirring it thoroughly while maintaining eye contact with you. “I almost forgot! It’s an adaptation of the little prince but with dancing! Should be so much fun! Do you maybe wanna go with me?” you couldn’t keep your smile from spreading across your face as Armin suggested that you go on one more date. “Sounds great actually! I’d love to go!” you said, extending your hand to connect it with his over the table. Armin returned the gesture, softly rubbing circles with his thumb on your outer palm. “You know, it’s so weird. We’ve known each other for ages, yet I never imagined we’d be getting along so well together romantically, you know?” he admitted with a small, almost shy smile. “Okay, don’t mock me, but I kind of had a sign...” you said awkwardly. “What kind of a sign?” he arched his eyebrow at you, now holding your palm in both of his as you giggled with the confession you were about to make. “You know how Historia reads tarot?” if Armin could arch his eyebrow any more, he definitely would. “Do go on” he said in an intrigued voice. “Well, she read that there’s a fair man in my life – this was just after our first date – and she found out that he is very interested in me but it’d be more and more obvious as time progresses” you trailed off with your recollections of the tarot reading, patiently waiting for Armin’s reaction. Armin huffed in fake annoyance. “Well, that checks out. Historia kept mentioning that “fair man” that was oh so interested in you, I had to ask you out on a second date as soon as possible! Couldn’t risk it!” You laughed in unison, finding it cute how your mutual friend had read about the two of you in a deck of cards. After a while, Armin returned to the topic. “Hey, y/n… Had you ever told Historia about crushing on me?” You were taken aback. “Of course! Historia knew about you from the start. What’s wrong with that?” Armin’s eyebrows were furrowed. “Nothing wrong, just thinking. Cause I’d told her about crushing on you too...” “You’re not insinuating she planned this?” You asked, surprised that you’d ever come to such a conclusion. “Insinuating, no. I’m blatantly stating it. The little lady set us up!” (“Are you upset Historia set us up?” “Honestly, this was the best thing she’s ever done, y/n” he said and kissed your temple.)

Jean doesn’t believe in tarot and he’s made it his life mission to convince you as well. To him, it was a shame that an educated and well-informed person as you would ever resort to reading tarot. “What’s wrong with it, Jean? Even if it isn’t true – which it very much is – haven’t you read about all the cognitive benefits of picking up such a hobby? Can you even imagine the amount of brand new synaspes my brain is creating?” He simply looked back at you, one eyebrow raised, refraining from responding. “It means I’m actively getting smarter and all you do is talk down on my new skill. Will you let me practice on you now or are you going to keep on glooming about getting your cards read?” You said, only half annoyed. “Fine, y/n… Do go on. I want my cards read” you giggled at his surrender. As you were turning upwards the cards he’d picked out, Jean was observing you, your swift movements, how your irises grew wider with each symbol you recognised. “You’ve been dealt quite the cards Jean. Let me check the manual once more” you said, shuffling through the pages. “Still haven’t got the hang of it? What about your synapses?” He said and chuckled at you, still not averting his gaze from you. “With these many cards, it’ll take me a while… Look, you’ve got the lovers. A deep connection and unity between two people… And the two of cups! Mutual love and – possibly – soulmates? Whoa Jean! I’m assuming you’ve confessed to Mikasa, right?” You noticed how his face changed into the most surprised expression you’d ever seen. Furrowing his eyebrows, he opened his mouth once to speak, but said nothing. After a few seconds, while you were trying your hardest to read his face, he finally spoke again. “Uhm, y/n, why would I confess to Mikasa? I’ve literally nothing to say to her, except for maybe small talk at parties.” It was now your turn to be surprised by his response. “You’re not for real, Jean. Everybody knows you like her! The cards said so too!” You said and motioned to the spread cards laying between the both of you on the table. “Y/n...” he said and rubbed his hand all over his face, finally resting it in a fist on his chin, partially covering his mouth. “You’ve got this whole thing wrong, y/n” “How have I got it wrong? You’ve asked her out in the past and she rejected you?” Jean was facepalming so hard at your question. After taking a breath or two, he finally sat up properly and faced you, body completely aligned with yours. “Y/n, all these cards I pulled... Not a single one of them is referring to Mikasa. And this one – the two of cups, was it? - I was about to ask you out. That’s the new relationship, hopefully.” He said as he pointed at the vibrant card in front of him. “I was just… Waiting for the right moment… Didn’t wanna blurt it all out of nowhere… It sucks that you think that this whole time I’ve had my eye on Mikasa, cause it’s far from the truth.” Jean’s confession was unexpected, but more than welcome. “Jean… Honestly PHEW!” You said in a loud voice, sweeping invisible sweat from your forehead with a dramatic move. “Phew as in…?” He questioned, not quite catching your drift yet. “Phew because… I’ve had MY eye on you for who knows how long… I never initiated anything cause I thought you had things going on with Mikasa. I’m relieved to find out this isn’t the case.” You looked over at him, a serene smile was plastered on his face, his hand extending to reach yours. “So… Wanna go out some time?”

“Shouldn’t have done that, y/n sweetheart” Connie said as he laid his reverse card on the pile between you on the couch. “Ugh, how come you always get me so bad? Uno’s supposed to be my turf...” you exhaled, disappointed by the fact that you had to draw more cards. “And with this” Connie said playing one more card “I’m out! I’ve officially defeated your sorry ass!” Connie celebrated his victory by triumphantly marching all around your coffee table, hands in the air. “I can never catch a break with you” you protested, letting your weight fall on the back of the couch. Connie noticed how you were not celebrating along with him (his audacity is immeasurable) and quit his marching to crouch next to you. “Hey, hey… No need to feel sad. It’s a compliment to have the best uno player as your boyfriend!” he explained, softly poking your cheek with his index finger over and over again. “Cut it out!” you yelled, laughing at him while trying to push his hand away. “And… Consider this: Whoever loses in card games, wins in love. Isn’t this what they say?” He questioned, waiting for your response as he was now poking your belly with both of his indexes. “Speaking of which” you said in between fits of laughter, attempting to escape him by moving further away on the couch. “I think I read about you in tarot, but like… A few weeks before we started dating”. Thankfully, your statement intrigued him enough to get him to stop his relentless poking. “Seriously? Had we met yet?” “No, not yet. It was a few weeks before Sasha introduced me to you. But I’d seen photos of you so I don’t know, I may’ve been biased by your cute face!” You said and gave him a bright smile, but Connie only stood up from his spot to scream at the top of his lungs “NO SHIT BECAUSE I READ ABOUT YOU TOO!”. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “What are you talking about, Connie?” “Okay, listen” he said and sat back next to you again. “The week before we met, I was so tired of Jean and Sasha bugging me about not wanting to meet any of Sasha’s friends – I didn’t know about you yet, I’m sorry babe – and so we all went to this fortune teller, who told us all about you and our date and, wait, REMEMBER WHEN YOU SPRAINED YOUR ANKLE ON THE WAY HOME FROM OUR FIRST DATE? SHE’D TOLD US ABOUT THAT AS WELL AND THEN I TOLD JEAN AND SASHA AND THEY SAID I’D MADE IT UP AND DIDN’T BELIEVE ME UNTIL MOVIE NIGHT A FEW DAYS LATER AND-” “CONNIE CALM DOWN!” You half yelled, while giggling the entire time. “Please, take a breath, you’re giving me a headache!” Eventually, he did calm down, and sat on top of you. “So… Reckon we were meant to be?” he snuggled his face closer to yours, sneaking small pecks here and there. “No, you were meant to be and I was meant to keep losing to you in card games!” You exclaimed in fake annoyance. “NOW YOU DON’T MEAN THAT Y/N!”

“And what do you think this means, Hange?” you questioned the brunette as they drew one more card out of the deck. “Wait, let me check… I’m still new to this tarot thing...” As they browsed through the deck manual, the corner of their tongue was pursed between their lips. “So, y/n, you got the hanged man… Or woman… This deck assumes everyone’s gender I guess...” “Hange… You’re trailing off” you said and giggled as they returned your gaze. “I’m just saying, y/n. You can’t just assume people’s gender or their sexuality, it’s not right”. They looked kind of disappointed as their eyes skimmed the page referring to the hanged man. “I know Hange, but I came here so you could practice tarot, remember?” “Alright, alright” they surrendered. “So, as I was saying, the hanged PERSON” - you couldn’t hold back your giggle – is all all about sacrifice, new perspectives... waiting for the right time… But that’s boring y/n… I suggest that you screw the right time, and go for it instead. And as the great Herman Melville said “He who hesitates is lost”. Or she. OR THEY!” Hange threw their hands up in frustration, letting the manual off of their hands. “Are you quoting Herman Melville or Lemony Snicket? You’re confusing me!” You both laughed at your comment, Hange touching her stomach in an attempt to contain themselves. “Either way, y/n… You know, tarot is really fun, but more often than not, waiting for the right time is pointless. The right time never comes and one’s never ready. I don’t know what this stalling refers to in your life, but it kept coming up in your reading. If there’s a situation where you need to take action, just do it. And when you do, call me up so you can spill the tea, you know?” Hange stretched their palms on the table, collecting the cards you’d both pulled out of the deck and tidying them into a neat brick, before enclosing the deck in its colourful paper box again. Once they’d put everything away, your mind was made up. “Okay Hange. So, enough with the stalling, right?” “It’s the best advice I can come up with, y/n. And as your only and BEST fortune-teller slash advisor slash best friend, I do suggest you act upon… Whatever you need to act upon.” They said as they put the deck back into their bag. “Okay, listen” you said and inhaled deeply. “Y/n… Is something wrong?” “No, no, just… Listen, okay? Don’t ask me how I know but I know you like me and I like you too and do you wanna go on a date sometime?” You blurted in a single breath as Hange was left frozen opposite you on the table. “I can’t believe Levi spilled the beans, oh he’s in for a real treat!” they said, clenching their fists. “Is that a yes or a no, Hange?” You insisted, eyes steadily focused on them, pulling them back to reality. “It’s a yes, y/n, of course it’s a yes. Can the date be punch-a-bag? Cause Levi’s asking for a beating!” “Okay, but wear something nice? I’ve made reservations at a restaurant” you explained while getting up to make your leave. “How did you know I was gonna say yes? And where are you going?” “Gotta warn Levi! See ya!” you waved goodbye and made your way out before Hange could stop you.

“Please tell me this is a joke, y/n” Mikasa sighed as she averted her gaze from your phone screen to you. She’d already had enough of your teasing today and you trying to explain how your friend Historia had predicted Mikasa and you would end up together was the final drop. “You never take me seriously, Mikasa… This reading was so OBVIOUSLY about you, I HAD to film it for this exact occasion! Just listen to how Historia mentions that “Mikasa will never believe this, even if you show her after it happens”… You can’t tell me the reading isn’t accurate!” You pouted, hoping that Mikasa would come around and admit to your friend’s tarot reading skills. “It doesn’t matter if it’s accurate, y/n, cause it’s not real! You can’t be serious about basing our entire relationship on a deck of fancy cards?” You taken aback by her comment and felt like your hurt showed. The reading Historia had given you all those months ago was what fuelled you to - finally - ask Mikasa out. “Hey, y/n, I… I didn’t mean to upset you...” She reached for your arm, but you pulled away. Collecting your thoughts as best as you could, you eventually managed to speak. “Those fancy cards gave me the confirmation I needed to pursue you at the time. You were always so distant, I never knew what you were thinking. But everything that Historia told me, gave me the boost to ask you out...” You sneaked a peek at Mikasa, who was now also wearing her mouth upside down and lingering akwardly back and forth. “Besides, you said it yourself. You never wanted to cause trouble in our friend group and had no intention of asking me out, even though you liked me. So, yeah, those fancy cards were a big deal. And the video you wasted so much time shitting on was the match that started the fire. Blame me for believing in the occult I guess, but don’t say our entire relationship has been based on a lie, cause it was that “lie” that started it all...” Mikasa waited, unsure of how to respond to your speech. “The only right thing to say is I’m sorry, y/n. I was insensitive. This was clearly important to you… Can we conclude this fight now and watch the rest of the video? I think Historia was about to explain something I’d do on our first date” She trailed off shyly. Your lips perked up just a tiny bit, and that was all the answer Mikasa needed as you scooted closer to her on the couch. As she wrapped her arm around you she spoke again. “Actually, y/n, play it from the start. I should pay proper attention to the reading this time!”

Folding his paper in half and softly laying it on the kitchen table was your cue that you were in trouble. “You did… What exactly? I didn’t quite catch that, y/n” Your breath hitched as you moved further from the sink and closer to him. His look was as serious as ever, arms folded on his chest, unmoving. “It wasn’t even too expensive, Erwin! Come on, don’t dwell on the past! It’s long gone now!” You tried to make a plausible excuse for yourself, but to no avail. “Uh uh, that’s not what you said. You said you spent a hundred dollars on a tarot reading, because you weren’t sure I’d propose.” He gave you a serious look, pinching his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. “How could you not be certain? Have I ever let you doubt my intentions towards you, y/n?” Damn, this was going to end badly, you could feel his anger brewing. “You don’t understand, Historia is a genius! She even predicted we’d have a daughter before I knew it! How did you think I knew to buy a pregnancy test on our holiday?” The way his eyes grew wider at this confession was a sight, to say the least. “Uhm, your period skipping two months maybe?” “ERWIN!! It was summer time! That... Can happen... From time to time!” “I’m gonna hold your hand as I say this, y/n, but, at the time, we were having unprotected sex for a least three months because we were consciously trying for a baby.” He gave you one more of his serious glares, tilting his head a bit forward. “I’m just a girl, Erwin! You can’t blame me for wanting to make sure!” You explained as you crossed the distance between you and sat on his lap. Maybe this would prevent him getting too mad at you. He exhaled deeply as he stared at you between his arms. You knew he was judging you so much by the stern look on his face. Unfolding his paper and resuming his reading, he continued. “It’s a good thing you didn’t charge it on my card... If I saw those withdrawals without a single warning, I’d have called the bank to pause the card.” He flattened the paper with a shaking sound. You fidgeted with your fingers without realising it, but Erwin caught the gesture. “Y/n… You didn’t...” “I’M JUST A GIRL ERWIN! And a girl needs to know!”

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shadovvheart · 6 months ago

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new inky just dropped ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Her name is Lorraine, she's an innovator and reformer, a science wizard enchanter with an interest in inventing new practical ways of applying magic for everyday use to "serve man". A devoted andrastian with some religious trauma (tm) who thinks the circle institution under the chantry is outdated and needs to be changed.

She's reserved, observant, analytical, can be a bit awkward. Has trust issues, and forming relationships doesn't come easy for her, especially with non-mages. Kind of an "aloof, autistic scientist who can appear rude but is determined to improve the world with their inventions" archetype.

More ramblings under the cut 👇🏻

• Lorraine's fam were extremely pro-templar and raised their kids to be devout to the chantry. Magic was considered a dangerous burden, something to be hidden and kept away from regular people, so Lori has some internalised shame due to being a mage. Though she eventually does come to a realisation that her parents' views were unjust and that she shouldn't feel this way, and that her magic is a gift rather than a disgrace. Still, she does her best to put her magic to good use and invent new ways of aiding people through it, in part as a way to prove herself to the world. She believes mages should be allowed to contribute more to society, have professions and hobbies and more safe spaces to experiment with their gift.

• Before discovering her love for academic study and experiments, Lorraine wanted to be a templar. As the youngest child in her family with close ties to the chantry, she couldn't think of anything more fitting as she didn't want to be a cleric, and the idea of being a knight in shiny armour was compelling for a kid. Her magic manifested when she was 11 years old in the dead of the night when the estate was sound asleep. Waking up from a nightmare, she found herself surrounded by fire. She doesn't have much memory from what happened that night, only that she was dragged away by the templars from her home.

• The fire she caused was devastating to the estate, and Lorraine's parents and siblings didn't survive the night. She knows this, but due to the trauma caused suppressed her memories about what really happened. For many years being stuck in the circle she believed her family were so disappointed with her being a mage that they completely turned away from her, refusing to even write letters. That grew some serious resentment and shame inside of her. Her then mentor, Lydia, decided to spare the child more suffering and encouraged her delusions.

• Lydia was like a mother to Lorraine, and while she didn't have many friends at the circle, she considered her fellow mages to be her new family. She's often distrusting and cautious of non-mages, having a hard time believing that they can be accepting and caring about her - a mage - without having some ulterior motive. During the inquisition she bonds fastest with her mage companions. I also see her being closer to Dagna than any other non-mage companion due to their shared interests and passions.

• Eventually, when Lori received the vigil of trust and was allowed to make trips outside of the circle, Lydia told her the truth about the night when she was taken to the circle and encouraged her to reach out to her more distant relatives. Lorraine didn't see the point, as none of those relatives chose to reach out to her all these years either.

• Unlocking those memories for her was...ugly. There's still some unresolved trauma that she tries to learn how to live with. Naturally, the Nightmare demon in here lies the abyss quest takes full advantage of that because Drama. :3c

• I reckon Lorraine is interested in studying lyrium and finding ways for both mages and non-mages to work with it safely. She's also intrigued by the fade and the veil, so naturally she chooses the new, "experimental" fade rift magic later in the game. Apart from rift magic, she often opts for the frost element and spirit schools. She believes people shouldn't shy away from more sophisticated enchantments and other forms of magical crafts, taking inspiration from Tevinter and how they implement magical solutions to everyday problems.

• She would probably invent a magical fire alarm system enchantments to be installed in people's homes.

• While she's the kind of a person who would rather sit in a lab/study all day without interacting with a single living soul, she at one point got frustrated enough with her ideas being denied by the first enchanter that she decided to get into politics and push for reforms that would allow her to practice magic more freely.

• Speaking of politics, Lorraine spent most of her circle life in the aequitarian camp that generally tries to follow the chantry law. She always abided by the rule that magic should serve man in ethical ways, but also considered the system to be rather old-fashioned and limiting. She wrote drafts of reform programs detailing a secure and steady transition in which the circle would gradually provide more freedoms to mages, eventually letting mages govern themselves with as little chantry supervision as possible. When the mage rebellion started and fraternities split into two sides, Lorraine begrudgingly sided with the libertarians and supported the full separation from the chantry.

• Anyway, she has some serious personal issues but doesn't like letting it show and stays put. She's very focused on her work, determined and efficient, and is self aware enough to not take herself too seriously, so while she's not talkative and prefers to keep to herself, she doesn't sulk or dwell on her traumas, and tries to be friendly and accommodating to others. Although from her perspective, that equals to just being patient enough not to tell others to go fuck themselves fifteen seconds into the conversation.

Etc etc I think i could go on but I'm yet to complete a full playthrough with her and this is already a lot so maybe I'll yap about Lori more sometime later 🙈

#oc: lorraine trevelyan #dunno if i should call her Lori or Reina for short. i like both #Reina is more regal and cool-sounding but maybe that's why i prefer a simple and cute Lori for now 🤔#anyway I don't usually yap this much about my ocs here so this is a LOT but i just felt like going #so. enjoy #my ocs #dragon age #inquisitor trevelyan

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callalillywrites · 25 days ago

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The Huntsman's Mission

My third entry for Bucky Barnes Birthday Bingo (hosted by @avengers-assemble-bingo). This time we're getting the Royalty AU with a bit of a fairy tale twist. All of this can be blamed on Halsey's Castle. This story just wrote itself once I listened to it a few times on repeat (not a hardship because I love the song).

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Huntman!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Other characters: Steve Rogers

Summary: Your evil stepmother, the queen, has decided to do away with you, so she enlists the Huntsman to complete the task. It turns out the Huntsman is none other than your friend, Jamie Barnes. The real question is if he's going to go through with her command or find some way to save you.

Word Count: ~1330

Warnings: threat of death/violence (not by Bucky); bound character; impending death of character (Reader); twist ending; nothing too graphic but implied; lmk if I missed anything

A/N: I'm not saying I could be talked into making this a full-fledged fic, but I could absolutely make this into a full-fledged fic if there's enough interest. It's definitely a bit outside what I usually write, but I think that's why it definitely fascinates me to keep going and build this world up.

A/N2: Bucky goes by Jamie in this story, but it is Bucky.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

It shouldn't have happened like this.

You should be back in your castle, in your old room, where you're loved and cherished by your father and mother. You should be happily trying to get out of your lessons while finding solace in your many hobbies. It hadn't been like your mother and father hadn't doted on you.

It'd all gone so wrong, so fast.

One minute, you had a happy family and a happy kingdom.

The next, your mother was gone.

Your father remarried mere months later.

Your new stepmother turned out to be a real witch, complete with magical powers. She'd used them to banish your father to some place unknown. She'd stripped you of your title and tossed you into the servants' quarters where you were expected to earn your keep. She'd transformed your happy kingdom into a sad and dreary one as she hoarded all its beauty and wealth for herself, leaving none for your people.

When you thought she couldn't do worse, she did.

You found yourself staring into the soulless eyes of one of your oldest and truest friends. A boy now turned into a young man. One that has seen war beyond his years and bore the scars of countless battles. His dark hair hung almost to his shoulders, situated just so one couldn't make out more than shadows across his features.

So transformed himself, you almost didn't recognize him.

Huntsman.

That's what he called himself.

He'd bound your hands tight with rough rope before yanking you off your tiny cot. His steps dragged you from the palace and paraded through all those that served you and with you over the years. Your soft pleas to stop went unheard as he kept going even as you stumbled and tripped behind him. Your shame and confusion not once helping with the matter at hand.

"Why are you doing this, Jamie?" you practically shouted once he'd taken you beyond the castle's gates. "Please, you're my friend. Do you hate me this much? My family?"

Icy blue eyes slammed into yours. His hands jerked at the rope until you stumbled right into him. He didn't let you fall though, grabbing you around the shoulders. Leaning in until your faces were mere centimeters apart, his voice, raspy from prolonged disuse, dripped with desperation, trembling with a shaky breath, "I have no choice, princess. The queen has given me no choice."

His answer rendered you speechless for all of two seconds, snapping back, "We all have a choice."

"Not this time," he said, shaking his head and turning his back to you once more. His hand tugged at the short rope and dragged you onward.

You'd lost track of how long you'd been forced to walk. The sun had been high in the sky when he'd first pulled you out of your room with your hands bound. Now, the sun had started its slow descent at the horizon, the bottom already dipping out of sight. The castle, once so majestic with the sun highlighting it, had disappeared from your sight as you traversed the uneven stones and dirt beneath your feet. The same feet that had begun to ache in such a way that you were certain you'd have blisters from the too-tight and overly worn slippers that adorned them.

It wasn't until the sun had dipped completely, leaving only the softest rays to highlight the area, that this Huntsman, your once-sweet Jamie, halted his steps. His gaze surveyed your surroundings with a keenness that had you scooting closer for fear that something dangerous lurked nearby, waiting to attack at its earliest convenience.

You jolted when a low hum escaped him. The noise so unlike any of the grunts and puffed breaths he'd let loose during your long trek. It took you a moment to realize it was a pleased sound.

Glancing around his broad shoulders, you soon discovered why.

A small band of men blocked your further passage along the roadway. They each had a bearing about them that didn't exactly spell comfort in your opinion, but their presence seemed to settle something within your captor. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing smoothed out.

"Thought you'd be late," he said, his voice gruff as he acknowledged the group. "You get everything I told you to?"

The man in the middle stepped forward, giving you the first real glimpse of him.

It took everything in you not to gasp at the man's appearance, so unlike the way he'd looked the last you'd seen him. The possibility of such a transformation should've been impossible, but then so should an evil queen capable of magic.

"Took us a bit, but yeah, we got it," Steve said, his gaze moving towards you. A grin spread across his face upon seeing what had to be a surprised expression on yours. "Ah, wondered if you'd recognize me, princess. Glad to see you haven't forgotten."

"I've never forgotten a single person in my kingdom," you huffed with an indignant tone. "I'm my father's daughter after all."

Steve's smile softened as he regarded you, nodding. "That you are, princess. Silly of me to have forgotten that."

Silence descended briefly between you all.

In that time, Jamie turned toward you, pulling out a large knife. One quick, efficient strike had your bindings falling away. His gaze met yours through his long strands before he shifted to meet Steve's own curious gaze. "Keep her safe. Take her far away from here. The queen must never know what's happened or it'll be all our lives. You understand that, punk?"

"Yeah, I got it." Steve nodded. "We'll take her and keep her safe, jerk."

Apparently satisfied, Jamie allowed himself a final glance in your direction, murmuring, "Take care of yourself, princess."

"Wait," you said, reaching out and grabbing hold of his jacket, "you're not going back there? Please, Jamie, I just got you back."

The corner of his lip curved upward for a mere second before his face turned almost stone-like again.

A sob threatened to rip out of you as you demanded, "At least tell me we'll see each other again. I can't let you go back without that promise."

His stony countenance cracked the smallest bit, a shaky breath working its way out of him. His face twisted as though he'd tasted something bitter as he promised, "We'll see each other again."

The lie rested between you, but that lie gave you some hope that it could become a truth. You would cling to that lie as long as you could. As long as you didn't have proof that something had happened to him. It would be a lie that would lead to your mission to retake everything the evil queen, your stepmother, had taken from you. It would be the lie that liberated your people and restored you to your rightful place, not as princess but as queen.

*****

James Barnes watched from the shadows as you left with Steve and his small band of men.

He'd done exactly as he'd promised he'd do for your father all those years ago. He'd kept you safe from the clutches of your evil stepmother, and he'd keep doing it as long as he drew breath.

With you safely tucked away, he made quick work of the poor creature needed to complete his subterfuge. If his mind kept traveling back to you and how beautiful you'd grown, he couldn't help it. His hands had long since memorized the movements necessary to carry out his work while his mind wandered.

It took mere moments before he filled the sack with the remnants he needed, hefting it over his shoulder and trudging back the way he had come.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd get the chance to see you again.

Of all the lies he's told over the years, this was the one he really wanted to turn into a truth. He wanted to be by your side as you reclaimed everything you deserved and more.

#4bbingo #bucky barnes birthday bingo #royalty au #fairy tale au #snow white au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #implied violence #tw kidnapping #huntsman bucky barnes #princess reader #female reader

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bloodismymedium · 6 months ago

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My Bill Collins/Skinface Headcanons

Check out my Mona Lanius headcanons here if you haven’t! 💀 Bill Collins was always a psychopath, an undiagnosed one at that and in every waking moment of his life he had extremely violent thoughts and impulses that he struggled to keep in check on a day to day basis but he did his best to keep his demons at bay for the sake of his family and career but he would have moments where he got to “vent” his repressed thoughts such as by torturing animals whether they be stray pets or animals he would find on his frequent hunting trips. He also had a reputation of being very “overzealous” as police officer due to his constant battle with violent, intrusive thoughts, he was the kind of guy you would think of when you think of the phrase “police brutality”. It was keeping these violent desires at bay that lead him to being very depressed and shameful of himself but all that would change when he met someone very special.

💀 Mona broke into Bill’s house to murder him and his family but was ambushed by Bill, anticipating that she would come after finding her painting in home. Bill pinned Mona to the floor with his full weight on top of her emaciated form, hand wrapped around her throat and a knife pointed at her heart. Bill was literally drooling as his dilated pupils stared into Mona’s black eyes, barely able to contain his excitement as he would finally be able to live out his murderous thoughts on a real person. Mona and Bill saw themselves in each other’s eyes and for the first time in Mona’s life she felt true love. Mona gave Bill a crooked smile and said “go ahead, do it”, her voice laced with twisted arousal which Bill picked up on almost instantly. Bill’s wife than came into the room where she saw him pinning the intruder down but before she could say anything, Bill lunged at her and slit her throat, much to Mona’s surprise yet equal delight. Bill would then assist Mona in killing his own daughters and help dispose of their bodies.

💀 It was actually Bill’s idea to cut off one of his arms to add it to the blended up slurry that was now the rest of the Collins family in order to throw off investigators and lead them to believe he was dead. It was shortly after that where Mona told him to cut off his own face, acting as a symbolic gesture of letting go of the false life he lead before meeting her and embracing his true self, which he did with no questions asked. Bill was never happier, the man he pretended to be was gone and he has fully embraced what he was always meant to be, a monster. Mona found what every artist needed, a muse and Bill found what he was truly missing from life, a soulmate.

💀 Let’s get straight to the point, no bullshit. Mona and Bill are absolutely in love with each other and they actually would die for the other and they truly never felt that kind of love before in their entire lives. They inspire each other to be their worst selves and they find new things about the other that makes them love each other even more every day. Bill is the only human being Mona will ever feel something towards that isn’t unrelenting revulsion because she truly understands him and loves him for the bloodthirsty animal he is and Bill will always have unrelenting love and devotion towards Mona for finally freeing him from the “delusion” he was living. They are truly meant to be 🫀🫀🫀

💀 Bill is something of an artist as well, although his forte is in taxidermy and sculpting as he practiced both hobbies as futile attempts to keep his psychopathic desires in check. He now applies these skills in assisting Mona in their murders, the results of which inspire Mona to paint. The murders of Tom Harris and Ian Ford being examples of Bill applying his own artistic talent and it was also through these skills where Bill made his mask from the skin of his own face. Mona and Bill really do inspire one another and they view each other as phenomenal artists both in terms of killing and their actual art. It was through Bill where Mona would learn these skills as well.

💀 Bill is 6’3 and weighs just a little over three hundred pounds, being a very burly man with an even mix of muscle and fat composing his bulk, he possesses superb strength that makes him an effective killer and accomplice in Mona’s artistic endeavors. The photo of him seen in the second episode was of him before he started working out, another hobby he dabbled in to curb his repressed nature. It was also through Bill where Mona discovered she has a thing for big dudes.

💀 Cutting off his face and fashioning it into a mask came with some disadvantages, such as losing his ability to speak coherently. To make up for being unable to speak, Bill learned sign language through Mona and would also learn to communicate through sounds and vocalizations he could make without lips, such as barking and growling. Mona finds this adorable and jokingly calls him her dog”, going as far as giving him a spiked collar, which Bill unironically loves.

💀 Bill does most of the murders, acting as a muse for Mona’s paintings. Mona has the utmost love and admiration for Bill’s brutality, considering his murders to be high art all on their own. Bill meanwhile deems Mona’s methods of killing to be as beautiful as she, focused yet brutal and overflowing with originality. Overall, Bill’s murders like a wild animal, chaotic and brutal, while Mona is more focused, planned out and applies more twisted creativity when killing.

💀 Bill is a actually good cook, like REALLY good. Having learned how to cook from both his father, a line cook for the Navy and his mother, a homemaker and having a life time of experience in handling meat thanks to his hunting hobby. Mona, who was more than happy eating raw human meat and cockroaches before meeting Bill, is now addicted to his cooking and the meals he’s able to whip up with whatever organs they’ve harvested from their victims and ingredients stolen from their homes is the stuff you’d expect from a five star restaurant.

💀 Bill has a lot of kinks… like maybe too many, necrophilia, pet play, extreme sadomasochism, crossdressing, you name it. Years of repressing his urges paired with religious trauma caused him to develop a lot of fetishes that he kept behind close doors but now he embraces and lives out all of his worst, perverted fantasies in all the worst ways possible with Mona’s encouragement as she too, is a degenerate sexual deviant but it can be debated that Bill is worse.

#urbanspook #urbanspook the painter #the painter #bill collins #mona lanius #headcanons #analog horror

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ghouldtime · 7 months ago

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I just followed you based solely on an ask you responded to because I very much vibe with a Ghost who walked into a craft store for paint and came out with two new hobbies.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 AHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

I love seeing that where he is just living a nice domestic life. I usually write spooky AU's or things with the paranormal but he's always just a dude there too, I like keeping him like that!!

To me, I can never look at him flat on and agree with the version of Ghost that people usually write (no shame to those who do, keep doing whatever makes you happy - it's not personal it's just not my taste) where they make him this ultra edgelord dommy sigma guy where he's always somehow towering over EVERYONE, growls every word, and is just???? That version viscerally reminds me of my early wattpad days or those rlly weird thirst trap biketoks

Like, have you LISTENED when this man speaks? Have you heard his jokes? His sense of humor that he doesn't hide??? Give me the dad jokes, give me the terrible puns that would make you give him a significant side eye if you heard them as his shoulders shake with the laughter he's trying to hold back !!!

Soap implied he made his masks and he probably would have to to make sure that hey, this isn't something flammable. I don't think he'd just buy something that personal to him. Which means he would have to sit down and pull out the paint kit, pull out the Dremel, and get to work

THAT MEANS he has to go buy the art supplies. He has to go shop for them and browse the aisles of paint, holding up two of the bottles, determining if he would rather have Eggshell white or Ivory. And I'm convinced that yes, he knows there's a difference and he'll insist on it and NO it's not the same shade

He sews, he has to. He HAD to have made his mask. Sewing is also a super practical skill when you're out on the field and it helps improve dexterity and coordination so I'm going to say it's likely he does. Sewing is super cool y'all.

So I implore you to imagine him in the fabric store, trying not to get distracted by the seasonal prints or the really ornate shimmery fabrics that you can't help but to look at. I refuse to accept that he hasn't sewn pillows in his house just because he liked a certain fabric and wanted to use it

And I'm going to say he's made a god awful holiday themed mask. It's simultaneously the most ugly thing you've ever set eyes upon and the greatest thing ever too. He's committed to the bit

He's also picked up embroidery because, like sewing, it helps improve your dexterity and keeps your hands busy. It's also practical because how else can people steal your things or confuse them if there's a tiny ghost embroidered on the hem????

He's just a guy and I love imagining Ghost with actual domestic hobbies, being himself, living his life (falling into the trap we all do at some point of going into an art store and finding something interesting to do)

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thezombieprostitute · 5 months ago

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Tech Tuesday: Jake Jensen

Summary: Jake knows he's the luckiest man in the world and it's all because of you.

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

"Y' see, Jake, a lot o' people in this department ain't exactly friendly to others," Sy tells him. "In fact, it can be difficult for me an' Pine to assign anyone to tickets that require interacting with others."

Jake nods, a little nervously. "IT generally doesn't draw the most charismatic people."

"Which is a damn shame because, more and more, it requires some decent people skills," Sy agrees. "That's why Pine an' I were thinking of giving you a promotion." Jake's eyes go wide with shock. "The way things are right now, we assign tickets kinda randomly. We're interested in putting you in charge of the tickets. You'd be takin' on a lot more of the people focused work, the level 1 support, and the others'd be pickin' up more of your programming work. But since we all know workin' with people can be a pain, Pine's made sure to negotiate some more money into our budget for you. If you want the job."

"By 'in charge of tickets' do you mean I'd be taking them all on?"

"No, no, no," Sy assures. "Just that you'd be making them your priority. And you'd be assigning the level 2 and 3 support tickets around the department as you see fit."

"Won't that cut into your work?"

Syverson laughs at that. "Given how much o' my day is puttin' out fires caused by one of ours bein' rude to others in the building, yeah. But that just gives me more time for actually managing y'all, keepin' us up-to-date on projects, security measures and other stuff."

Jake thinks for a moment. "Does this mean I'll also be responsible for Lloyd's complaints about not getting Maestro assigned to his tickets?"

"He has eased up on that," Sy counters. "But yes."

"But this promotion gives me the authority to handle him, right?"

"That's correct."

Jake nods. "I'm in. Thanks so much for this!"

It had taken forever to get the twins to sleep for their afternoon naps. Leia couldn't stop fidgeting, at least until you gave her the Charmander stuffie to hold as you rocked them. But then Luke wanted his Bulbasaur and you ended up with overfull arms. Some days you're surprised your own biceps aren't as big as Jake's!

Jake's performance review was today and you wanted to make sure to cook up his favorite foods. You'd already sent some of his favorite snacks to work with him. You chuckle thinking about how quickly he can down a bottle of Mountain Dew. The bag of gummy worms to go with the meatball sub were, hopefully, a nice surprise for him. Generally all the sweets in the apartment were homemade but you know how much of a comfort gummy worms can be for him.

And after all Jake has done for you, for the twins, how could not comfort him? Be there for him? Jake never once talked down to you. Never made you feel like your hobbies or interests were a waste of time. He always made sure you felt loved and appreciated. You'd been together for so many years but you still giggle like a teenager whenever you think of him. And you know he does the same. Heck, you giggle as you think of him blushing pink and smiling as he thinks about you.

He's been working so hard to make sure you and the twins were provided for. The budget was sometimes tight but Jake made enough and your commissions were a good supplement. It just made sense for your little family to have a stay-at-home parent. Childcare costs for twins could be rough. But you got more creative with recipes, clothing, toys; your families were happy to help with a lot of the baby supplies; all of it resulting in all of you being able to live a nice, modest but incredibly happy life.

As the twins nap you get to work on the 5-cheese mac you know Jake loves. You're positive his performance review will go well, but it doesn't hurt to have a comfort food ready for him when he gets home.

Jake was practically bursting with excitement when he came home. As soon as he walked through the door the twins held out their hands, smiling, "Dada! Dada!" It always made his heart melt that they looked forward to his coming home. He picked them both up and spun, making them squeal with laughter. He takes a deep breath and knows what you're cooking up for dinner, making him smile even more. He's almost tearing up from how loved he feels.

"Dinner's just about ready," you call from the kitchen.

Jake looks to Luke and Leia, "you ready for dinner? Smells like Mama cooked up some really good food for us!" They both start chattering and laughing as Jake dances them over to their highchairs and gets them settled in. He joins you in the kitchen to help you carry things out and greets you with a big kiss.

"I take it the review went well?"

He starts visibly shaking with excitement, "so well! Let's get dinner started and I'll tell you!"

"Tease!" you smile at him as the two of you take things out to the table, making him laugh. Seeing him laugh causes the twins to renew their laughing and your heart warms all the more for it.

You and Jake alternate dishing out the food for yourselves and the twins. Even though it's certainly cooled down, Luke still holds out his spoon of mac and cheese for you to blow on it. Meanwhile Jake is helping to portion control Leia's ketchup for her chicken nuggets. Both of you are certain she'd drink the ketchup if left unattended so you've developed a system of adding a little dollop to each one as she's eating. Sometimes Jake thinks she views it as a game to play and he hopes she never grows out of it.

After the twins are sated a bit, you and Jake can finally dig in to your own plates. Jake gives all the appreciative moans he knows make you smile. It helps that your cooking is genuinely so damn delicious.

"Now will you finally tell me how the review went?"

"I'm getting a promotion!"

You squeal with happiness, causing a chain reaction with the twins. "A promotion! That's so wonderful! So well deserved!"

Jake blushes, "thank you, Sunshine. And it even comes with a pay raise! I think, after a few months, we can start looking at getting a bigger place!"

"Oh, Jakey! That's so wonderful! I really feel like we should celebrate!"

"I can think of a few ways to celebrate," Jake says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Definitely," you confirm with a giggle as heat rushes to your face. "I'm also thinking we should do a gaming night."

Jake's eyes go wide, "yes, please! Oh that would be so amazing! Not as amazing as you, but still amazing. God I love you so much, Sunshine! You're the best thing to ever happen to me---"

"I feel the same about you, Jakey," you say softly.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

#tech tuesday #tech tuesday: jake jensen #jake jensen x female!reader #jake jensen x female reader #jake jensen fluff #jake jensen x you

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lov3m3darling · 2 years ago

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Apple of my Eye (Obsessed!Wally Darling x Short!Reader) Pt. 3

Oh boy, here I go writing again >:3

Anyways, to everyone who has supported this or left a nice comment, just know I would die for you 💙

After this, I'm thinking of writing something for Howdy. There isn't nearly enough fics on here about our favorite bug boi 💚🐛 it might just be some HCs but I gotta do something for him cause now I ALSO have a lil crush on him ;-; he's so tall and he's got all those arms for huggin! I kinda also wanna make an OC to ship with him. I was thinking maybe a snail who works at the Bugdega with him. I just really like snails, I have 2 of them as pets 🐌❤️

Anyway, on with this fic. Enjoyyy!

!!!(TW: obsessive behaviors, jealousy, eye imagery)!!!

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

The next day, you got up with more enthusiasm than usual. You decided on a nice light breakfast of (fav fruit) so you could save your appetite for lunch with Wally.

Oh boy, there you went thinking about him again...

After last night, you couldn't seem to get him out of your mind. Even when you finally managed to fall asleep, you dreamt of him.

Dreams of more dates, of gentle kisses as you watched the sunset, of cuddles and movies and snacks under a cozy blanket...

What was happening to you? You were positive you'd never been so lovesick before...

It was even hard for you wait until lunchtime that day. Instead of your usual hobbies to pass the time, you found yourself staring at the clock and fidgeting. You tried to keep yourself busy, but couldn't seem to focus on any of the books or tv shows you tried to watch. It all just came back to the agonizingly slow ticking of the clock on the wall.

But finally...FINALLY it was time to start getting ready, and you practically jumped off the couch to get started.

Eventually you stood in your kitchen, waiting for Wally to arrive. Not a hair out of place, not a single wrinkle in your clothing, and not a clue what you would do when he actually showed up. Wally always seemed to fluster you, and you didn't want to be fumbling over yourself on a date with him, of all things! What would he think?!

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Taking a deep breath, you made your way as gracefully as possible to the door to answer it.

And there he was. Wearing a red suit and holding a very colorful bouquet of flowers in his hands, he smiled at you with that calm expression he always seemed to have.

"(Y/n), you look..."

Oh heavens...there it was again, that warmth within him. You looked absolutely, positively, wonderfully....

"Perfect..." he breathed, his eyes taking in your full form. He realized after a few beats that he was staring, and shifted his eyes up to your blushing face instead.

You shyly looked down at your shoes and squirmed under his gaze.

"Ah, golly...stop it or I'll melt. You look breathtaking in a suit too, Wally..."

You could absolutely cut the romantic tension with a knife at this point, it hung so heavily in the air. Suddenly, Wally remembered the flowers.

"Oh, I got you these! I can't lie, they were Barnaby's suggestion...I don't know much about dates. I've never been on one before"

He held them out to you, and you took them catefully, your fingers brushing his for a moment. You glanced at each other and then bashfully looked away again.

"They're gorgeous! I-I better get them in a vase so they last a long time! I'll only be a moment.."

Wally came in to wait while you rummaged in the kitchen cabinet for a nice vase to put your flowers in.

Looking around your living room, he noticed a few pictures hung up of you with some people he didn't recognize...including a man you seemed particularly close with.

His eye twitched.

"Say, (y/n), who are these fine folks in these pictures with you?"

"Hm? Oh! Those are some of my friends back home!"

thisisyourhome

"Yeah, shame I can't see them as much anymore. But we still call often!"

don'ttalktothem

You came back to the living room, having found a suitable vase for the flowers and displayed them on your kitchen table. You noticed Wally looking at one picture in particular and smiled.

"Ah, that's me and my cousin! That was a fun summer..."

Suddenly, the anger clouding Wally's mind evaporated. He realized his stare was about to break the glass of the picture frame, and he looked away, straightening his tie and smiling at you.

"Well, I'm sure living here will give you plenty new memories to hang on the wall"

You nodded.

"I'm sure it will, too. Hey, I'll grab my camera and maybe you and I can take one!"

A picture with him? To hang on your wall?

Though Wally had no heart, he was almost positive he felt one skip a beat in his chest as he thought about you displaying him among your closest friends and family. Was he really that important to you?

He watched you pack your camera away in the basket, and picked it up before you could. You looked up at him questioningly, but he just smiled and offered you his arm.

"I'll carry it. Come on, there's a lot to see!"

Wally brought you all around town, pointing out spots of interest and naming off which neighbors lived in which houses. Several of them were outside as you went by, and you got to meet them finally.

Julie was absolutely ecstatic to meet you! She gave you a lovely yellow flower from her garden and offered to come over and do your hair one day.

Frank was cold at first, but when you complimented his bowtie and expressed interest in the book he was reading, he warmed up and said you could come by for book discussion and tea anytime.

Alternatively, Barnaby was warm immediately! He was proud to see his best buddy on a date with such a pretty and polite new neighbor, and he told you some of his best jokes. And it was nice to meet the guy who gave Wally all that date advice!

Howdy was outside sweeping when you came by, and shook your hand with 2 of his. When he learned of your plans to have a picnic, he gave you a couple of the cookies he had just gotten in stock. On the house! And told you to come by the shop anytime you needed anything.

Eddie wasn't at the post office, but you did cross paths later on your walk. He tipped his hat and introduced himself, but seemed to get distracted when he spotted Frank catching butterflies across the street, and quickly excused himself, stumbling over his own feet on the way. You asked Wally what was up with him, and he chuckled.

"Eddie and Frank are...well...fond of each other"

"Ohh!" you said as it finally clicked in your mind.

"They are cute together, aren't they?"

You looked at Wally shyly.

"Cuter than us?"

His face flushed bright red.

"Nothing is cuter than you, dearest~ Why, you're the loveliest thing I've ever laid eyes on~"

You giggled teasingly, but felt his arm wrap around your waist as you continued on your walk. Your face grew warm for the millionth time since you met him, but you managed to at least lean your head against his shoulder in return.

Eventually, you arrived at the picnic spot. It was shady and private and the grass was soft.

"This is where I like to paint sometimes. I love Home and the neighbors and all...but sometimes quiet and solitude is nice as well"

You nodded as you grabbed the blanket from the basket and spread it out.

"That makes sense. I like my alone time too, but...for some reason I never need a break from you, Wally" you admitted, looking away shyly.

He was silent for a beat, then chuckled and plopped down onto the blanket. You moved to sit across from him, but he unexpectedly took your hands and guided you to sit in his lap. He kissed your hands and gazed up at you like you were the most divine thing he had ever seen.

Because you were.

"I could never get tired of you either. You've given my life meaning again"

Your eyes widened and sparkled at his words. You were speechless until one of his hands came up to caress your cheek. You leaned into his hand, and he smiled.

"Could I..?"

"Oh, please do.."

And he did.

Warmth spread through your body, right to your very soul. Everything around the two of you seemed to fade away until even the chirping of the birds was fuzzy and distant. You weren't sure how long the kiss lasted, but when Wally did pull away, he sighed.

"If you aren't mine after this, I'll surely die.."

You smiled, leaning your forehead against his.

"Looks like the show must go on, Mr. Darling"

A giddy grin spread across his face and he attacked your face and neck with joyful kisses.

When you two were finished kissing and flirting, you decided to finally have your lunch. There were a few apple-based dishes, but to Wally's surprise, he liked everything! He had always been a picky eater; rarely trying new things and only eating when he absolutely had to, but soon he found a whole new world of foods he liked. Sandwiches, cookies, watermelon...they were all delightful! Who knew!

Of course, he only took bites when you weren't looking. He wasn't ready to tell you how he ate yet, and he didn't want to scare you off. So instead, he would lift the food to his mouth before blinking, just to seem more realistic.

But you were too dazed from all the kisses and your new boyfriend to notice or care.

Boyfriend...oh, the thought made you shudder with excitement! And he was so sweet and marvelous, you never wanted your time with him to end. You'd never met anyone you didn't eventually need space from, but you were positive you would be quite content to sit on this blanket under this tree with him forever, holding hands and making jokes and eating yummy food...

But eventually, the sun started to go down and it was time to pack up. Wally helped you put everything away, and suddenly you spotted your camera at the bottom of the basket.

"Oh, hey! Let's take that picture before we go"

Wally seemed excited for it, and pulled you back into his lap. You took several pictures; your faces together smiling, your lips to his cheek, making bunny ears over the top of his pompadour, and a few kissing ones. You made sure to snap two of each so he could have one, then tucked your camera away in the basket again. You spread out the photos on the blanket at smiled at him.

While you waited for them to develop, you both laid down to watch the clouds.

"Ooh! That one looks like a flower!" you exclaimed, pointing to it. Wally hummed in agreement.

"I think that one is a car"

"What? No way, it looks like a banana! And so do you!" You said, sitting up and poking his face where his nose would be.

"How's that?"

"I don't know! ...you're yellow?"

"Ha ha ha...(y/n) you're very imaginative. One of the things I love about you"

You blushed.

"Well...I love your laugh"

"I love your smile"

"I love your hair"

"I love your cooking"

"I love you"

Silence. You slapped your hand over your mouth and sat straight up, refusing to look at him. Where did that come from?! Nervously, you waited for him to say something. Anything.

"...please say it again"

Slowly, you turned to look at him. He was sitting up now, too, and his eyes were wide.

"I..I love..you...and maybe that's weird or wrong! I just met you yesterday! So it's crazy, but I...I love you, Wally"

"(Y/n) you are just...the absolute most.."

There were hearts in his eyes as he grabbed your shoulders and kissed you yet again, smiling against your lips.

"I love you too"

...

"Oh hey, the photos are done"

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Welp. What a date, huh? ☺️ little less yandere in this part, but part 4 will have plenty. I wanted to establish that it's not just some random obsession, he's genuinely in love with you and you feel the same.

Should make yandere dynamic...interesting.

As always, more to come ❤️🍎

#wally darling #welcome home #welcome home fanfic #yandere wally darling #yandere welcome home #obsessive wally darling #wally darling fanfic #wally x reader #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you

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